Making Amends
by Sth10
Summary: Sequel to Not Alone. Cooper's strained partnership with Tang is further tested when he feels compelled to try and save a teenage gang member that he once failed to help.
1. Chapter 1

**PART ONE**

It wasn't the same anymore between them. The trust had gone, on John Cooper's part at least. He could no longer look on Jessica Tang as his partner; she was just the cop he rode with now. She had betrayed him when he had needed her to stand by him and even though he was man enough to accept it had happened, it had destroyed their previous friendship.

There was no intention on either part to make the atmosphere in the cruiser strained but somehow that was how it had become. Tang was very aware she had failed to provide the support Cooper had needed when he had been at his most vulnerable and her guilt was palpable even as she insisted she had done the right thing. They didn't argue about it; in fact they had not discussed it since. But it still hung between them, that unease.

Cooper had no intention of addressing the issue. He knew Tang was too proud to admit she had been wrong. So that was how they left it. They shared a cruiser for twelve hours; they ate lunch together; they took care of each other on the streets. And when watch was over, they went their separate ways without a goodbye. No more texts, no more Asian culinary hotspots, no more post-watch beers in O'Malley's.

It was not the way a partnership was supposed to be. But it was the only way two stubborn cops could deal with what had come between them.

X X X

When the call for officer assistance came through, they were parked up sipping coffee and staring out of their respective windows, avoiding conversation. Tang was tapping away on her iPhone as usual; Cooper was timing how long he could go without blinking out of sheer boredom. Fortunately his mirrored shades saved him from looking like a PCP psycho.

"We buying that?" Tang asked at the radio announcement that juveniles deep in Avalons territory were getting out of hand.

"Always like to knock a few teenage skulls together." Cooper snagged the handset. "6-A-57, show us as back-up."

"Raiding the corner?" Tang wondered as she weaved the speeding car in and out of Boulevard traffic.

"Patrol probably just saw the goods being exchanged." Cooper unhooked his seatbelt, got his nightstick out in preparation. Adrenaline flowing at the prospect of a good brawl.

The street they arrived in was surrounded on both sides by project housing. The corner had been abandoned by the teenage drug-dealers who were charged with operating it. They were in the middle of the road, a group of seven or so, raging battle with the four units that had already arrived.

Cooper didn't wait for Tang to stop the car before he piled out. Smashed straight into one baby banger who was swinging punches at a struggling uniform. Sent the kid crashing to the ground and continued on without pausing.

Two teenagers had decided to make a run for it. Cooper lunged, brought one stocky body to the ground in a tackle that knocked the air out of the runner. The other was too fast, cutting away from Tang's attempt to grab him with a graceful agility that, even in the chaos, caught Cooper's attention. A young cop stepped in his path to try a takedown but the kid merely lowered a shoulder and charged like a NFL blocker, sending the smaller officer flying.

Arms pumping, legs lengthening into an effortless sprint, the teenager was off. The tackled cop scrambled to his feet and set off in pursuit as Cooper wrestled his fallen perp into submission and secured the cuffs.

"Damn, that fuckin' kid's got game," a P3 cursed, his own prisoner already cuffed and spread-eagled against a U-Boat trunk.

"You get after him, then," Cooper said.

"Hell no, that's the boot's job. He likes running."

Cooper snorted a laugh and dragged his perp to his feet, patting him down roughly. "Hey, who's your friend? Marcus fricking Allen?"

"Fuck you, dude, I ain't no goddam Raiders fan."

The gathered cops laughed loudly at that statement, then hollered even louder when the young boot reappeared, frog-marching the handcuffed speed demon in front of him.

"Boot, I almost take back everything bad I ever said about you!" his TO declared.

"He din't catch me," the runner spat. "Fuckin' car clipped me, bitch."

"Technically he tried to vault a moving car and fell flat on his ass," the rookie clarified, to much hilarity.

Cooper handed his prisoner over to an empty unit, happy to avoid the paperwork. Tang had wandered off to chat with another female cop who had yet another teenage gang-banger on the ground with her foot pinning his head down.

A quick headcount revealed seven handcuffed juveniles, all being loaded into waiting cruisers. Cooper returned to his car, reached to grab the log-sheet, began scribbling down the details.

As the last teenager, the enviable runner, was hauled to a cruiser, he stopped fighting the officers restraining him long enough to look back at Cooper.

"Yo, man, I know you!" he yelled.

Cooper threw him his best hard stare and snorted. "Shut the fuck up, kid."

"I'm serious, man, I know you! You picked me up when I was a 'lil kid, when I was smashin' up my momma's apartment. You don't 'member me?"

Cooper stopped writing, looked up sharply. Realised he did indeed recognise the youth. In the attitude-filled features, the vestiges of a young, abandoned boy's face stared at him. "Richard?"

He tossed the logsheet back into the car, started across the street. Never taking his eyes off this long-limbed, lean-muscled teenager he remembered as a small, scared child trying to deny the fear of what lay ahead of him. He was a big kid now and strong judging by the defined strips of muscle straining against the tight grip of the two cops holding him.

"Coop, we gotta get him outta here," one said as Cooper approached.

"Just gimme a sec, bro." Cooper stood face-to-face with the handcuffed teenager. Noted he was only a couple of inches shorter than his own impressive height. "This your life now, Richard? This the choice you made?"

Silence. Cooper snorted again and turned away.

"He's all yours, guys."

"Yo, man, no!" Panic raised the kid's voice an octave. "C'mon, don't jus' walk away."

"What'd you want me to do, kid?" Cooper demanded. "Want me to sit you in an interview room and play PS3 with you again? Tell you everything's gonna be alright 'cos it's okay to sell crack?"

Time was up and the boy was being forcibly bundled into the backseat of the cruiser. Yelling in protest, his words flying at Cooper.

"Fuck you then, man! Do what you did last time. Just fuckin' leave me."

Cooper felt his shoulders tighten, his stomach drop. Those words hit home. Similar words to the tearful shouts that had followed him when he had painfully walked away from a scared little boy because he'd been too screwed up to help.

He slid his sunglasses back over his eyes. Drew himself up to his full height and walked slowly back to his own cruiser.

He didn't look back.

X X X

"Why we back here?" Tang demanded as Cooper killed the engine and stepped out into the station parking lot.

"So you can go to the bathroom without getting a disease and I can talk to someone for five minutes."

"Who you gonna talk to?"

"No one you need to worry about. Meet you in ten, okay?" Cooper was already walking away inside, not waiting for her to join him.

Storing his gun and taser in one of the gun boxes, he leant against the bars of the booking-in desk.

"Got a kid called Richard just been brought in?" he asked.

"Hey, Coop. What's your call on the Raiders and Broncos game?"

Cooper wouldn't be distracted for once. "The kid been processed yet or what?"

"He's not getting charged. Gangs are comin' over to talk to him about some shit they got on their books so we gotta keep him here. He's in Interview 2." A frustrated sigh. "So, Raiders or Broncos?"

"Raiders," Cooper said out of loyalty rather than belief.

"Damn, man, I got fifty on the Broncos."

"Gangs gonna mind if I talk to the kid for a minute?"

"No one's gonna mind if you get the little shithead to shut the fuck up. He hasn't stopped hollering since Hernandez and Fletcher brought him in."

"I'll shut him up," Cooper promised.

He could hear the angry shouts of a hormone-driven teenager even as he walked down the hallway, yelling threats and protests and curses whilst completely oblivious to the fact no one cared enough to listen.

Cooper stopped at the glass door. Stood perfectly still, let the kid notice his presence in his own time. The hollering stopped. The teenager went motionless, watching warily. His right arm, handcuffed to the edge of the table, was taut as he clenched his sizeable fist, but his face showed no aggression.

Cooper walked into the interview room expecting to be told to fuck off. Instead he was met with a curious gaze of recognition, no hostility apparent.

He leant a shoulder against the wall, folded his arms across his chest. "You remember me, huh?"

A quick nod but the teenager didn't speak. He was studying Cooper intently.

"Wanna talk to me for a minute?" Cooper asked.

A shrug, the homeboy attitude returning at the prospect of a cop conversation. "Do I got a choice?"

Cooper sat down opposite him, rested his elbows on the table. The teenager sat back in his seat, trying to escape the proximity in a way that told Cooper his outward arrogance was not entirely real.

"You got a street name?" he asked.

The kid smirked. "Pitbull. 'Cos I fight like one."

"Nice. Classy."

"You asked, man."

"Remind me of your surname, Richard."

"Rico." A hard stare. "They call me Rico now."

"Surname, _Rico_." Cooper was unimpressed by the bluster.

"Ellis." Said reluctantly.

"How old are you now?"

"Fi'teen."

"And you bang."

It was a statement rather than a question but the kid answered anyway, lips curling in another smirk. "Avalons, man." Said with pride.

"Go to school?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

Another momentary silence as refusal to answer was considered. "Carter."

Cooper nodded. Looked the kid over. "You run like a fricking tailback," he announced. "There's NFL guys that can't charge like you can."

Just for a second, pride gleamed in the tawny eyes. "I play football. Wide receiver, though."

"You must be pretty good."

"Yeah, I'm a'ight. Football be the only thing I go school for."

"Least you're still in school. It's not all lost."

The kid tilted his chin up, regarded Cooper for a minute. His lips relaxed and he lost some of the sullen teenage look.

"You even remember my name?" Cooper asked.

The eye contact didn't waver, no glance at the name tag, and there was no hesitation in his reply. "Officer Cooper."

"So you haven't forgotten being that scared kid I brought back here and played video games with."

There was a long moment of silence. Rico's gaze settled on his feet, his shoulders taut. He had reached out to Cooper in recognition of what the big, tough cop had meant to him on that terrifying day but already he was trying to fight his reaction. He was a kid of the streets now and in the urban rulebook, that meant Cooper was no longer on his side.

Finally his head came up. "What's yo' real name, man?" he asked.

"Officer Cooper."

Rico kissed his teeth derisively. "Yeah, a'ight, you get to ask me any questions you want and I can't even ask you one 'lil thing?"

Cooper held his gaze. "My name's John. Everyone calls me Coop."

The kid nodded. "Cool."

"I hear you're not being charged with anything."

"They ain't got nothin' to charge me with."

"You were running pretty hard for someone with nothing to be charged with."

"Check wid your boys, man, I din't have nothin' on me. No drugs, no gun, nothin'. They jus' keepin' me here 'cos fuckin' Gangs think they gonna get info'mation outta me."

"Guess they'll be wasting their time."

"Damn straight."

"So what were you doing on the corner if you weren't dealing?"

"Jus' hangin' wid ma boys. I don't sell crack. Dat's their job."

"You got a different job?"

A swift headshake. "I ain't tellin' you dat."

There wasn't much Cooper could say in response to that. So he just stood, quietly pushed his chair back under the table.

"Stay alive, kid."

"You goin'?"

"I don't have time to sit around listening to you talk shit all day." Cooper made for the door.

"Yo, Officer Coop." Just a moment, fear surfaced in Rico's voice again. "You gonna come back?"

"What for?"

The kid didn't know how to reply. Eventually he just shrugged but his eyes said what his mouth could not.

Cooper stopped, hesitated for a moment. The biggest part of him, the rough vet of the LA streets, was telling him not to waste his time with this baby banger. But John Cooper had a good heart that he hid behind brusqueness and sarcasm and that was a part of himself he could not entirely ignore.

He looked back at the teenager. The events of not so distant times had softened him somewhat. Not to extremes, of course; he was still a sarcastic hard-ass who loved a good brawl, but he found himself empathising more these days.

"I'll come check if you're still here when I finish watch," he eventually said.

A quick check to confirm Cooper's eyes were honest, then a nod. "A'ight."

"Don't be giving anyone shit, okay?"

"Yes sir." Reluctantly, barely said above a whisper.

Cooper couldn't prevent a smile. "Looks like there is still a part of a decent kid left in you after all."

He didn't get a response, didn't expect to, but as he closed the door behind him, he swore he saw the edges of Rico's mouth curve.

X X X

Tang was waiting for him as he stepped out of the interview room, curiosity written all over her face. He didn't acknowledge her; walked off down the hallway. She trailed after him, followed him all the way back out to the parking lot. Didn't even remember to protest when he took the driver's seat.

"So?" She eventually cracked as Cooper pulled out onto the street. "Who is he?"

"Richard Ellis."

"I know that. I mean who is he to you?"

Cooper shrugged, deliberately avoided looking at her. "I used to know him a few years back."

"And…?" she pressed.

"And nothing. I just wanted to see how he's doing."

"He runs with the Avalons?"

Cooper gave another shrug and was rewarded with a frustrated huff from the passenger seat.

"That's all I'm gonna get out of you?" she demanded.

He allowed a smile then. "I met him when he was turning thirteen. His mom had sent him to his friend's house for the night, packed up and moved on. Left him to come home to find the place empty."

"Yet another great mother."

"He was a nice kid back then. Happy to talk; scared but trying not to show it. Just one of those kids that you take to, y'know?"

"And what happened to him?"

"He went into the system, what'd you think happened?" Cooper shook his head, suddenly angry at the memory of his actions. "He asked me to take him home with me."

"Did you consider it?" Tang asked carefully, looking directly at him. Clearly aware that Cooper's temper was firing.

"No," he said shortly. "How the fuck could I take on a messed-up projects kid?"

"Exactly. So why you getting involved with him again?"

"I'm not getting involved."

"I saw the look on your face when you were talking to him, Coop."

"I was checking up on him. That's it."

"You sure about that?"

Cooper concentrated on the road, felt his jaw tighten, his shoulders tense.

"What I do is my business, Jess."


	2. Chapter 2

**PART 2**

"Yo, Coop, that kid's still here," the desk officer called as Cooper exited the locker room, duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Did Gangs not cut him loose?"

"Yeah, he's free to go but he hasn't gone anywhere."

"The social worker didn't take him?"

"Wasn't no social worker; he wasn't under arrest so he didn't need a responsible adult."

"Okay, so what the hell's he waiting for?"

A sardonic grin. "You, apparently. You playing Uncle Coop?"

"Shut the fuck up," Cooper grinned, used to the hazing cops saw as a sense of humour.

"Go get him outta here; watch commander says he's makin' the place look like South Central."

"Tell the watch commander this ain't frickin' Bel Air. Where's the kid at?"

"Front lobby scaring the good citizens."

Cooper swung his duffel bag up, checked his gun was covered by his t-shirt. Headed through the doors into the lobby, empty except for one teenage boy in oversize jeans and a Lakers shirt.

Rico looked up, assessing Cooper's navy tee taut across his solid chest. "Yo, Officer Coop, you wearin' ma colours!"

"The only colours I wear belong to the biggest gang in this city," Cooper snorted.

Amusement danced in the kid's eyes. "LAPD homeboy, huh?"

"So what you hangin' out at my corner for?"

A shrug. "Thought maybe you'd come back."

"You not got your homeboys waiting on you?"

"Don't got nobody waitin' on me." Slumped in his chair, Rico looked cold, tired and hungry.

"When'd you last eat, kid?"

"Yesterday, I guess."

Cooper sighed, thrust his hands into his pockets. Hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. "Let's go get you a burger."

"Fo' real?"

"No, I'm shittin' you."

Rico flashed a grin, leapt to his feet with an eagerness that suggested yesterday may have been an underestimation. Five minutes later they were installed at the burger bar around the corner from the station and Rico was practically inhaling the biggest plate on the menu with indecent enthusiasm.

"Thanks, Officer Coop," he mumbled through a full mouth, barely pausing to swallow before ripping off another huge bite.

Somewhat amused by the new moniker he had been given, Cooper chewed his own fries slowly. Raised a finger to the waitress and ordered a second plate for the kid.

"Sorry if it's expensive here." Rico looked up just long enough to slurp his Coke.

"Don't worry about it, just eat."

Another quick glance. "You a'ight, man."

"You still eat like you did first time I met you."

Rico gave a wide grin. "I was pretty hungry back then as well."

"Jeez, you were turning thirteen when I stopped you smashing up that apartment and you were the smallest kid I ever put in the back of my cruiser. Look at the size of you now."

"I was damn small, huh? What you expect when I never got any food." Rico shrugged. "Foster home was shit but they fed me real good. Started to grow in like two weeks."

"You still living with your foster family?"

"Naw, man. I got sent back to my mom."

"How come?"

"She tol' the judge she was clean an' all dat shit. Dumbass believed her."

"So she's still using?"

"'Course she is, dawg. Never stopped."

"Must be hard."

"Officer Coop, everythin' hard. Don't matter if I'm wid my mom or wid Child Services, it still ain't the kinda life anybody would want."

"And banging with the Avalons is gonna make it better."

An attitude-filled shrug. "Ain't gonna make it any worse."

"Unless you get drive-by'd next week."

"Least when you dead you don't got no problems."

Cooper regarded him over the rim of his coffee cup. "You really believe that?"

Rico swallowed another bite. "Hell, man, I don't know."

"Richard…"

"It's Rico."

"Rico. I fucked up last time I saw you. I had a lotta shit goin' on and I let it get on top of me. I cut you off when you needed help and I'm sorry."

"Don't matter no more."

"It mattered then. I shoulda tried to help you. I was wrong to walk away like I did. There was a lotta stuff wrong in my life at the time and I guess I was too busy trying to get myself straight to have time for anyone else."

Rico swallowed down more Coke in reflective silence for a moment. "I shouldn't'a asked you to take me home wid you. You din't need me givin' you dat shit."

"You were scared and you were desperate."

"Don't mean I shoulda begged some cop I just met to adopt me."

"So why did you?"

Another shrug. "Felt safe wid you. Like you was strong enough to jus' make everythin' be okay."

The last remaining fries were consumed, the remaining drops of Coke chased around the cup. Finally replete, Rico sat back, made eye contact with the big cop.

"It felt like things couldn't get too bad if you was around," he said quietly. He shoved back his chair abruptly, got to his feet. "Thanks for the food, Officer Coop. I gotta get goin'."

"Can I ask you one thing before you go?"

"If you want."

"You ever keep that card I gave you?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Actually, I still got it."

"So why'd you never call?"

Another pause. Awkward this time. "Din't know what to say."

"You coulda just said hi."

"Yeah, right." Rico snorted humourlessly. "And then what? Hey, Officer Cooper, guess what? I'm wid the Avalons now. Sure you'd have taken dat real well."

Cooper pulled out his fold of bills, dropped a couple on the table and nodded thanks to the waitress. There was nothing he could say in response to Rico so he remained quiet, giving the teenager the opportunity to continue. But Rico had gone silent, staring down at his oversize Nike Airs. Cooper felt an unexpected flash of sympathy for this kid who was so alone in his young life.

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home," he said.

"I can get the bus," Rico insisted, but he was following Cooper back to the station parking lot despite his protests. The teenager's eyes widened when Cooper stopped by the Challenger. "Dat your car?"

"Yep. You coming or what?"

Rico scrambled into the passenger seat, all pretence of disaffected cool gone. "Man, this ride is cool. I only ever seen cars like this on TV."

Cooper hid his smile. "Where'd you live?"

"The Gardens, homie."

"Big surprise." Cooper rolled his eyes at the mention of the notorious Avalon Gardens project that had sired the gang's name. Steered the car out onto the street and hit the gas. "And I'm not your homie."

Rico did an exaggerated eye-fuck over him. "Hell no you ain't."

"You got a big mouth, kid."

"Man, tell me about it. Everyone been tellin' me dat since I was like three years old. Always gettin' put outta class an' shit."

"So learn to shut up."

"Dat ain't no fun." Rico shrugged, paused a second. "Yo, man, don't be drivin' into the projects in this car, okay? It's too sweet to get beat up."

"And you don't wanna be seen with a white guy, right?"

A wicked grin crossed the kid's face. "I got a rep to keep up."

Cooper pulled over cooperatively. "You got my number, kid. Use it, okay?"

"I will." Rico held out his knuckles for a fist bump. "Thanks, Officer Coop."

He slid out of the car without farewell, closing the door gently. As he passed the open window, his words were so quiet Cooper only just caught them.

"This was a good day fo' me."

X X X

One good thing had emerged from the downfall of Cooper and Tang's partnership. One thing that had taken a lot of weight off Cooper's shoulders. Finally the issues between himself and Ben Sherman, the demons that had destroyed the bond between them, had been addressed.

Those dark times had not been forgotten by either of them, but recent events had allowed them to be exorcised at long last. And no longer did a cloud hang over John Cooper and Ben Sherman; the anger and the guilt and hurt had faded away.

Now they could meet for a beer every couple of weeks and talk about their lives. Felt able to turn to each other if it was something only a cop brother would understand. So after driving back to Hollywood, it was Ben's number that Cooper dialled.

"You okay?" Sherman asked when Cooper joined him at the bar. "You look a little freaked out."

Cooper took the beer Sherman slid across to him. "I had a weird-ass day."

"Garbage calls?"

"Nah, weirder than that." Cooper picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Don't know if you remember back when you were in Phase 3, when we picked up a kid called Richard smashing up his mom's apartment after she abandoned him?"

"That little black kid? The one you hung out with after watch?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"I remember him."

"I met him again today. Runs with the Avalons now."

"Shit, he's a baby banger?"

"Not much of a baby. Six feet tall now, playing football. Big, strong kid."

"Shit," seemed to be the only thing Sherman could think of to say.

"Wasn't somethin' I was expecting," Cooper admitted, downing half his beer in one. "He still looked like he was starving. Ended up taking him for a burger."

"What'd you make of him?"

"Honestly, I don't think he's gone all bad." A derisive snort at his own admission. "Hate to say it, but I still liked the kid."

"Did he talk to you?"

"Just said he'd gone back to live with his mom. He seemed pretty messed up; still not getting enough food, havin' to take care of himself."

"But he's banging, Coop."

"I know." Cooper gave a crooked smile. "Not something I can easily ignore."

"You still wanna get involved though," Sherman said wisely.

"I didn't say that."

"Didn't need to. You think you can read me like a book but I learnt to figure you out pretty well."

Cooper did his best 'what the hell?' expression and swallowed down more beer.

"You think the kid needs help?" Ben asked.

Cooper hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"So we both know you're not gonna walk away from him. You never could do that to kids."

"You'd better not be trying to suggest I'm soft, Boot."

Ben shrugged. "You're the one who trod the Boulevard for an entire night for a little boy you hardly knew."

"And I seem to remember you were right next to me when I did."

A smile lit Sherman's youthful face. "Too young and stupid to know better," he grinned.

Cooper threw him a look that once would have had Ben wondering if the big man was serious or not.

"Who said you ain't still stupid?"


	3. Chapter 3

**PART 3**

Saturday's watch was the early shift and Cooper was free of his uniform by late afternoon. It had been a reasonably calm day, nothing had happened to get under his skin, but as he drove east he was feeling distinctly ruffled.

Getting the address off the system had been the easy part. It was his own instincts that he was struggling with. Whether to get involved or not. Whether he was wasting his time or, worse, setting himself up for a fall.

But as well as loyal, Cooper was also deeply stubborn, and it was this trait that saw him pull up outside the ramshackle house, climb the front steps and bang on the screen door.

"How'd you know where I live?" was Rico's first question when he answered the door.

"You've remembered I'm a cop, right?"

"You see my record as well?"

"Didn't have enough time to read it all."

Rico's lips twitched. "I had a clean sheet when you first met me."

"I know, I checked. Can I come in?"

"Sure you wanna?" Rico wrinkled his nose. "Place ain't so nice."

"I'll have seen worse, trust me."

Rico gave a crooked smile and stepped aside, permitting Cooper entry.

A woman was slumped on a cheap couch patched with duct-tape in various spots. The only other furniture in the room was the typical widescreen TV and a battered low table covered with a variety of detritus.

"Ma, dis Officer Coop," Rico said loudly.

Cooper looked steadily at the kid's mother, unsurprised by what he saw. The woman before him was maybe in her mid-thirties, but years of crack had robbed her of any vestige of youth. Her cracked skin had the dusty look so synonymous with the drug; her small frame had wasted away to little more than a walking skeleton. Teeth mostly lost to decay, eyes never quite managing to focus.

In sharp contrast, her son seemed bursting with health, well grown and strong. He was a good-looking kid: smooth skin the colour of Hersheys, high cheekbones and full mouth matching the strong jawline, hair razored precisely. It was a shame there was no one to look upon him with pride.

"Wha' you do this time?" the woman demanded, drawing on a cigarette with shaking fingers. She barely even glanced at Cooper.

"Nothin', he just come around to check up on me."

A suspicious look in Cooper's direction. "He on probation again?"

"Not that I know of," Cooper said, not bothering to hide his impatience.

She turned back to the blaring TV with a shrug of indifference. "Do wha' you want, then."

Cooper jerked his head at Rico. "We're outta here, kid."

"Where we goin'?" Rico followed him out the door without even a backward glance at his mother.

"Anywhere but here."

A grin crossed the teenager's face. "Sounds good to me." Wasting no time, he jogged to the Challenger, movements so fluid and easy that he looked alien in the dilapidated landscape surrounding him.

"You eat today?" Cooper asked once they heading along Avalon Boulevard.

"Yeah."

"You gonna bang for a career, kid, you'd better work on lying convincingly."

A defensive shrug. "Din't go buy food yet."

"You like Chinese food?"

"Yeah, I like it."

"I feel like checking out Chinatown, what'd you think?"

"A'ight, cool."

"You're talkative today."

Another shrug. "Had to go out an' buy my mom rock this mornin'. Goddam hate doin' that."

"And that's why you couldn't go food shopping." Cooper completed the sentence Rico wasn't prepared to finish.

"When there only twenny dollars in the house, guess what it gonna get spent on." Rico chewed on his thumbnail. "She only got me back livin' with her 'cos I can get the corner to hand over when she got no more credit left."

He looked across at Cooper. "Don't usually tell nobody dis kinda shit."

"So why you telling me?"

"Hell if I know."

"Do you bang 'cos you really believe in all that shit or d'you do it 'cos it's the only way you can make money to eat?"

"I d'know."

"Everybody got a reason for what they do, kid. Even if it's a fuckin' stupid reason, they still got one."

"Man, what else is there do in ma hood? If I wanna step outside ma front door, I gotta have a rep."

Cooper made eye contact with him. "You like what you do?"

"You want me to say no?"

"You ever just give a straight answer?"

A youthful grin flashed. "Not if I don't wanna."

"You got the goddam prison patter down already."

"Ain't goin' to no prison, dawg."

"I wouldn't bet on that."

Rico was quiet for a long moment, studying the passing scenery as Cooper pushed the gas hard. "Yo, you gonna keep on checkin' on me?"

"D'you want me to?"

The kid shifted awkwardly, embarrassed. "I wouldn't mind if you did."

"How about I come watch you practise once a week, then I take you for food after?"

"That'd be cool." Rico risked a glance across at Cooper. "You gonna come see my games?"

"If I'm off, I'll be there."

A nod that somehow conveyed satisfaction and gratitude in one small movement.

"Cool."

X X X

Chinatown didn't hold Rico's attention for long once he had consumed his body weight in noodles and crispy duck. He was uncomfortable walking turf that belonged to the Chinese gangs; he had already had the gangster unease with straying out of his neighbourhood.

Not certain if the kid carried anything for protection and not about to break the fragile trust building between them by asking him outright, Cooper decided to head back to streets they both knew better. Spotted a favoured coffee shop on the drive that he hadn't visited in a while. Pulled into the curb.

"C'mon, I need coffee. You want a shake or something?"

Rico was already scrambling out. "Double chocolate fudge!"

"How old are you?" Cooper mocked.

He followed the kid into the coffee shop, noted the presence of two blue uniforms already settled at the counter.

"Hey, guys," he greeted Sherman and Sammy.

"'Sup, Coop?" Sammy said cheerfully. "You know you got a kid tailing you?"

"More like I'm tailing him. This is Rico."

Sammy eyeballed the teenager. "Wassup, Pitbull?"

"Yo, Sammy," Rico replied flippantly.

"Guess you two know each other," Cooper drawled.

"Everybody knows Pitbull, right?"

Rico was completely unperturbed. "Damn straight, homie."

Ben exchanged glances with Cooper. The big man could only shrug in response.

"This is Ben Sherman," he said to Rico.

Rico gave a short nod, automatically distrusting of the uniform. Cooper handed him a note, pushed him towards the register.

"Get me a black coffee. Biggest they've got."

Rico sloped off to place the orders.

"The fuck, Coop?" Sammy asked incredulously.

"Chill out, Sammy, I'm not gonna adopt the damn kid."

"So what you doin'?"

"Just tryin' to keep him outta prison."

"Why? That's Avalon Pitbull you're buying shakes for. You seen his rap sheet?"

"I know who he is and yeah, I've seen his sheet."

"Leave him alone, Sammy," Ben interrupted. "We're supposed to help the community; that's just what Coop's trying to do."

"Community would be helped if Pitbull was off the streets," Sammy declared.

"That's why I'm tryin' to get him to spend more time on the football field than on the corner." Cooper dropped his voice. "You know how good this kid is, Sammy? If he's got someone to keep him going straight, he could go all the way."

"If he doesn't shoot someone."

"No guarantees," Cooper said wryly.

Ben slugged the last of his coffee and stood up, socking Sammy in the shoulder. "Let's get outta here before you start quoting Gangs statistics at us. Later, Coop."

Sammy slid off his stool. "Keep your guard up, Coop," he said. "See you around."

Cooper joined Rico at the register, saw the kid considering pocketing the change but he glanced up and proffered it to Cooper. Cooper smacked his hand away gently, reached to take his coffee.

Rico took a giant slurp of his shake. "Yo, dat dude Sherman…"

"What about him?"

"You know him?"

"He used to be my partner. He was with me that day you wrecked the apartment."

"Don't 'member no one 'cept you."

"You and your homeboys don't say shit about him, you hear me?"

"He a good cop, then?"

"Yeah, he's a good cop. He's a good guy too. Tell your homies keep the hell away from him or you gonna have me to deal with."

"He your boy or what?"

"I told you, he used to be my partner. I still look out for him."

"You say he's cool?"

"Yeah, that's what I say."

Rico shrugged. "A'ight, man. Dat's what you say, I spread the word. He Sammy Bryant's boy anyway; everybody 'round here know Sammy."

"You cool with Sammy?"

"Yeah, he a'ight. Detective Nate, 'fore he got killed, he used to always come around with Sammy and check how we were doin'. He wasn't crazy like Sammy."

"Nate Moretta was a good guy."

"Sad he died, huh?"

Cooper nodded reflectively. "He wasn't even goin' after those gang bangers that killed him."

"I may bang, bro, but I still think what those guys did was fucked up. I still got some humanity, y'know."

"Good to know."

"I ain't all bad, Officer Coop."

Cooper gave him a crooked smile. "Prove it, hotshot."


	4. Chapter 4

**PART 4**

Cooper and Tang had paid their weekly homage to Hawaiian-Filipino fusion food, dealt with a wino performing a striptease in the middle of Sunset and prevented a regular hooker from stabbing a john with her nail scissors. Attempted an experiment with Turkish coffee but concluded that despite the good caffeine jolt, it was too much like mud to become a favourite.

They had just bought a call for a disturbance in the parking lot of a liquor store. Arriving, they found three teenage boys scuffling amongst the remains of a smashed forty bottle.

"Hey, knock it off!" Cooper roared as he exited the car. The authority in his tone was enough to still the boys. They released their grips on each other's baggy t-shirts, lowered their clenched fists.

"Everythin' cool, man, we jus' talkin'," one said.

"Step away from each other and take your hats off," Cooper ordered.

After the customary moment of resistance, they shuffled apart and removed their navy ball caps. Cooper growled in frustration when he clocked the tallest boy's face. Rico eyed him back warily.

Cooper stepped closer to him, glaring fiercely at the kid. Rico just shrugged and shifted from foot to foot, gaze now fixed on the ground. The other two shot him questioning looks but didn't speak.

"They steal anything?" Tang asked the liquor store owner as he appeared in the doorway.

"No, nothing. I just want them moved on; they're scaring my customers away."

"They didn't take the beer?" Tang persisted.

The man's headshake was too quick but he was clearly determined to not get involved.

"Get against the wall." Cooper gave Rico a shove. "You too, ladies. Any ID on you?"

"No," the shortest one replied for all of them.

"Street names?"

"Shortie. Dat's Pitbull an' Rooster."

All three automatically adopted the position, remained motionless while Cooper patted down each. Finding nothing incriminating on any of them, he stepped back and allowed them to turn around.

"I know your faces now." He looked from one young teenager to another. "I come across you again, I'm gonna take you in. You hear me?"

Low mumbles of acknowledgement was the best he was going to get.

"Get the hell outta here."

Shortie and Rooster immediately made a run for it. Cooper saw them stop around the corner of the building, look back to check what was happening. Rico moved to run as well but was grabbed by Cooper before he could take a step.

"The hell was this?" he demanded.

"Nothin', man, we jus' had a lil disagreement."

"About what?"

"Some shit. It don't matter."

"This isn't Avalons territory. What you doin' over here when you should be in school?"

"Had somethin' to do."

Cooper glanced over his shoulder, checked Tang was still talking to the store owner. "Get in the car," he said.

"C'mon, Officer Coop, how can I get in the car wid you when the homeboys watchin'? You gotta make it look real." Rico's eyes were pleading. "Jus' hook me up or somethin'."

Cooper gave Tang a momentary glance, then made his move. Charged Rico up against the wall, spun him around and pinned him, twisting his arms high.

"You wanna chat shit to me?" His voice rose loud enough that any hovering homeboys could clearly hear. "Think you a big man? How about you take a ride to the station with us?"

"Fuck you, cuz," Rico yelled back, struggling hard enough that Cooper had to put his broad shoulder in to hold him.

Gripping the teenager tight, Cooper hustled him to the car, shoved him bodily into the backseat.

"Goddam, man, you strong," Rico panted as Cooper stood over the open door. "That hurt!"

"You wanted it to look real."

"That shit felt real, swear to God."

Cooper fought the grin from his face. "Shouldn't have struggled so hard."

He shut the door. Tang was glaring daggers at him, even going so far as to remove her mirrored aviators to make sure he noticed. "You're still hanging out with that baby banger?"

"I'm not 'hanging out'," Cooper mocked, "I'm trying to keep him off the corner."

"You're clearly not doing a great job of it."

"Tang, you run your ass ragged over homeless dudes; I'm cool with that. Me, I figure kids Rico's age still got a chance at turning out right."

"Rico? Don't you mean Pitbull?"

"Hey, lady, I can hear you!" the kid yelled from inside the cruiser. "You stick wid yo' Skid Row homeboys, a'ight?"

"Shut up," Cooper ordered him.

"Who says I'm a fuckin' lady?" Tang snapped back at Rico. "Keep your mouth shut; you hear me?"

Rico eyeballed her for a moment, then let his cheeky grin soften his face. "Yes, ma'am, I hear you."

Tang looked to Cooper again. "What we gonna do with him? You're not arresting him?"

"What for?"

"Like you can't think of anything."

"Nothing that would stand a hope of sticking. Jesus, Jess, you wanna chase after the other two and haul their asses in as well? All for a smashed forty and a few slaps?" Cooper turned away. "We're gonna take him home. That's it."

He moved back to the door, opened it and leant into the car.

"You hear all that?"

"Yeah."

"You just gonna hit the streets again after I let you go?"

"Naw, I got football practice at 3.30."

"You skip school all day, but you show up for practice?"

Rico shrugged. "I always show up for practice."

"So show up for class."

"Class no fun. I jus' get kicked out all the time."

"Keep your damn mouth shut, then."

"Whatever, man."

Cooper looked back at his partner. "Let's get movin' before Tang goes crazy."

"Man, she already crazy."

"Trust me, she gets crazier than that."

Rico grinned widely. "Glad I ain't you, cuz."

X X X

The Carter team practised on a worn patch of grass that was only identifiable as a football field by the posts. Big patches of turf were missing; the remaining grass sparse and discoloured. Cooper thought back to Dorsey, a school even tougher than this, where blood was spilt often but their football field had been a shrine to the game.

A lone man was out on the field, setting up a few items of battered equipment, wearing a t-shirt with Carter Warriors emblazoned across the back. He glanced up as Cooper strode across the grass. Watch over, Cooper was out of uniform, but he saw the man had clocked him as a cop.

"Help you?"

"I'm Officer John Cooper, Hollywood Division; you the football coach?"

"That's me. Tony Marlow." The smaller man accepted Cooper's handshake. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here about Rico Ellis. He plays for you, right?"

"Yeah, he's one a' my boys. He in trouble again?"

Cooper couldn't stop a grin. "Everyone's asking me that same question. No, he's not in trouble."

"What you after him for, then?"

"Just wanted to get a little information about him. He told me football's about the only thing he's interested in, so I thought I'd come down and talk to his coach."

Marlow shrugged. "What can I say; the kid's good. Really good."

"Think he could make it?"

"Rico won't make it, Officer Cooper. He won't even try. He's risin' up fast in the Avalons; that's the only direction he sees his life going."

"Does he know he's a good player?"

"Can't nobody touch him on the field most times; damn straight he knows. Should hear the trash talkin' he does."

"So why isn't he trying to make it?"

"I told you. In his eyes, his future's already set. Football's just somethin' fun for him, just 'til he drops outta school. And he will go, sir. Surprised he's lasted this long. If it wasn't for football, I figure he'd have been outta here already. He loves the game and right now, it's the only thing keepin' him on the straight."

"What about his parents?"

"Mama's on the crack pipe. Dad long gone. Older brother doin' twenty years in Salinas Valley." Marlow shook his head. "What chance that kid got, huh?"

"Is he smart?"

"Hard to tell. Never does enough work in class for his teachers to figure it out."

"Guess I don't need to ask about his grades."

"Think his GPA starts with a 1."

"Then how come he's playing ball without a C-average?"

An ironic smile crossed the coach's tired face. "Because if that's how we did that, I wouldn't have a team. We gotta be realistic, Officer Cooper. The classroom means nothin' to these boys; if we get 'em in class and get 'em to mostly stay there, we've achieved somethin'."

"It's not exactly giving them something to aim for."

"Look, these kids only come to school so they can play ball. I kick 'em off the team, they'll be off the roll within a week. Next time I'll see 'em will be when they're holding their guns to my head outside the grocery store."

"You really believe that?"

"I've been here fourteen years; I've seen it happen." Marlow shrugged. "All these boys, they're either banging already or they're about to get jumped in. They got brothers, cousins, uncles, fathers, all in the gangs. It's the only life they know. If they're on the football field, they're not running around the streets. For me, letting them play without the grades is by far the lesser of two evils."

"Guess you got a point."

"Why you so interested in Pitbull anyhow?"

Cooper shrugged. "Don't really know. Just liked the kid. He's got heart."

"He's sure got plenty of that. Ain't scared of nothin'. That's as much a problem for him as it as a positive."

"He done the Big Brothers program?"

"He done tons of programs. Either got kicked out or took himself off. Kid don't wanna be helped, Officer Cooper. He ain't lookin' to be saved."

"I met him before, when he was younger. He seemed a really good kid."

"They change. Get to be teenagers, neighbourhoods they live in, it's pretty inevitable the gangs are gonna get 'em. End of the day, it's security in numbers."

"Tell me about it. I grew up like that."

"And look how you turned out." Marlow gave a quick grin. "I'm not saying Pitbull's lost. Might do the kid good to have someone like you to turn to. Role models are pretty thin on the ground around here."

Cooper nodded slowly. "You mind if I stay and watch practice for a while?"

"Stay long as you want. Feel free to yell at the punks as well if you wanna."

Marlow strolled off to set up his equipment and Cooper took a seat on the lowest bleachers. Watched as the team came out in full pads and tattered practice jerseys, hollering and shoving each other around, a group of big, muscular urban kids who hadn't yet lost the hyperactivity of young teenagers. They yelled and smashed their helmets together and wrestled each other to the ground with full force.

It took Marlow and his two assistants a good ten minutes to settle them all down enough to issue instructions. Cooper finally managed to identify Rico amongst a team with only two Latino players and one Vietnamese, wearing number 19 and repeatedly slapping the back of the quarterback's helmet.

Finally control was gained over the team and drills began after the swiftest of warm ups: it seemed the kids couldn't concentrate on anything mundane and the coaches knew better than to try.

They were a scrappy team, raw and undisciplined, but there were flashes of such natural ability in some positions that Cooper ended up staying to watch the entire practice. There were some kids that had no business being on a football field; they were there because they liked the violence of the game, aiming to do nothing more than maim their opponent and used as linesmen because of this penchant. The quarterback had a nice arm but was tentative and clearly prone to panic; the defensive backfield lacked the fire and the agility to prevent touchdowns being run in.

But in a pretty ordinary team, there were some kids who could easily be targets for college scouts. The left tackle, the tight end, both running backs, a linebacker. Then there was Rico, the receiver who seemed able to catch anything that was thrown at him. Undoubtedly one of the standouts. But completely unable to follow an instruction or understand a play; his game was about his own instincts. A difficult kid to coach.

Towards the end of the session, the boys had finally settled down enough to run plays, defense and offense lining up against each other. Cooper watched Rico take off at bullet speed, cut sharply, throw off his defender and leap, launching an arm into the air with such casual grace it seemed impossible he would make the catch. But the ball cradled in his palm defied predictions and the kid landed lightly, whooping loudly at his own success. Threw the ball back to the centre then charged at the cornerback, gleefully tackling him to the ground. The other kids hollered their approval at the sharp crack of pads crashing together.

"Pitbull, knock it off!" Marlow bellowed, to little effect.

Rico bounced his way back to his position, trash talking the defense as loudly as he could. Got clothes-lined by the outside linebacker. Scrambled up and hurled himself at the defenseman, got held back by a guard.

"Pitbull!" Marlow's voice rose even further.

"Din't do nothin', Coach!" Rico hollered.

"Settle the fuck down a'fore I bench you."

"Wasn't me, Coach!"

"Swear you don't even know when you doin' somethin' wrong! You knock this shit off right now, you hear? You hear me?"

"Yes sir," the kid yelled back.

"You punks like to fight amongst yo'selves more than y'all like to smash up the other teams," Marlow declared loudly as the left guard sent a little safety flying with a shove from behind. The safety immediately charged, fists flying, and was restrained by the two assistant coaches. Curses and references to mothers were hollered back and forth by several other players.

Marlow blew his whistle, giving up and bringing practice to an end. "Get the hell off of my field, all of you."

Rico finally noticed Cooper's presence when one of the other players nudged him and pointed up at the bleachers. Clearly perturbed by the attendance of a big white guy whose entire demeanour screamed 'cop', the teenagers immediately drew closer together, as if instinctively looking to show their strength in numbers.

Rico didn't even throw his teammates a glance before he whipped off his helmet and sprinted over to the bleachers.

"Yo, Officer Coop! What you doin' here?"

"Thought I'd come check out if you really got game."

A proud grin flashed. "An' what you think?"

"You're damn good, kid. Goddam asshole when you've not got the ball, though."

"Yo, Pit, you on the tag again?" the other receiver yelled, causing laughter to swell amongst the other boys.

"Naw, man, yo' momma be the one on tag," Rico hollered back with a wide grin. "Dis ma friend right here."

"He po-po, homie."

"He cool po-po.

By now curiosity had got the better of Rico's friends and they had collectively crept closer, regarding Cooper with expressions ranging from hostile to suspicious to interested.

"Play football, cuz?" one of them dared to ask.

"Used to. And I blocked a helluva lot better than you do."

The others erupted into laughter, shoulder-charging the speaker and aiming slaps at his skull. "Yeah, homes, he served you up!"

Rico stayed put as the rest of the team pushed and shoved each other back towards the locker room.

"Didn't think you'd actually come watch practice," he announced with a sheepish grin.

"If I'm gonna lie to you, kid, I'll lie about something better. Go get showered and grab your stuff; I'm feeling like Puerto Rican food."

"Showers broke las' month." Rico laughed. "School got no money an' the football program got even less than that."

"So just grab your stuff. And don't sweat all over my car seat."

"Yes, sir."

"Holy shit, did you just show me respect?"

"Naw, man, you musta heard wrong wid yo' big white man ears."

Twenty minutes later they were heading for Westlake and Cooper's favourite Puerto Rican restaurant. Rico's battered shoulder pads were safely stored in the trunk "'cos some motherfucker gonna steal 'em if I leave 'em in the locker room" and he had settled down to play with Cooper's iPod, trying to find some music he didn't consider 'whack'.

Driving past the Coliseum, Cooper watched him gaze up at the huge old building.

"You shoulda seen that place when the Raiders were home," he said. "The atmosphere was somethin' you couldn't believe. And there was always a good brawl in the parking lot after the game."

"You came here to watch the Raiders?"

"Sure, I came to most home games before they went to Oakland. I was living downtown at that time; working South Central. Going to the game was kind of a tradition for my watch. You never seen a Raiders game?"

"Only on TV." Rico snorted. "Man, the only live football games I ever seen been the ones I played in. Never even watched college ball. USC playin' right there an' I never got in one time."

"You serious?"

A defensive looked crossed the kid's face and he stayed silent.

"Tell you what. You don't get put outta class this week, I'll get us tickets for the next Raiders game. We'll drive out to Oakland."

"Don't play with me, man."

"Who's playin'? We got a deal or what?"

"You seriously gonna take me to see an NFL game?" The street had given Rico a natural suspicion and he wasn't ready to let his guard down yet.

"If you behave yourself, sure."

"What you know about ma behaviour?"

"Four months in youth detention suggests you don't behave too well. Custodial sentence as a high school freshman? I mean, c'mon, man."

"Shit, you did read ma rap sheet. Look, Officer Coop, I did ma time in there an' I came back to school. I din't have to do that; I coulda just stayed on the streets. School wouldn't have cared; they don't like takin' you back if you had a penitentiary sentence. But I still did it."

"Why?"

"'Cos I wanted to play football and I couldn't do that in the pen or on the streets." The answer was straight and direct.

"That's somethin', at least."

"I jus' get mad, y'know, and when I do, I can't control it."

"Maybe football's gonna teach you how."

"You think?"

Cooper shrugged. "Everythin' depends on you, kid."

Rico fell silent for a couple of minutes, gazing out of the window again. "Yo, we kinda friends now, right?"

Cooper bit back an amused smile. "Looks like it.

"So…if we friends, do I gots to call you Officer?"

"Am I in uniform?"

"No."

"Then I'm not an officer right now."

Rico grinned. "Man, you don't need yo' uniform to be an officer. You got cop blood runnin' right through you, man."

Cooper controlled his own smile. "In answer to your question, you don't have to call me Officer when I'm off-duty."

"A'ight, cool." A self-conscious nod. "An' you don't gotta call me Pitbull. You can call me Rico."

"Cool."


	5. Chapter 5

**PART 5**

Two weeks went past in a rush of night watches and snatched sleep, then early watch and the eternal struggle to haul his weary ass out of bed at oh-dark-thirty. Finally two off-days but by the time Cooper had caught up on his sleep, got through a mountain of laundry and hit the gym, it was Saturday and he was due back on duty.

With a couple of hours to kill before roll call, he decided it was time he took a trip to the projects. The door was answered by a small, solid boy Cooper didn't recognise.

"Rico here?" he asked.

The kid eyeballed him for a minute, then shrugged and called back into the house. "Yo, Pit! Five-O here for ya."

"How the hell'd he know I'm a cop?" Cooper asked when Rico appeared a moment later.

Rico smirked. "Might as well have Po-Po tattooed on yo' forehead."

"Kid's like eight years old."

"You grow up 'round here, you learn early." Rico gave the boy a stern glare. "Man, what I tol' you 'bout not openin' the door up?"

"He po-po, Pit."

"Don't matter. How you know he not gonna raid us or somethin'?"

"'Cos he ain't yellin' an' he don't look mad."

Rico couldn't control a grin at that reply. "He a smart kid, huh?"

"He your brother?" Cooper asked.

"Naw, he live next door. He come around here when his mama gets on the pipe." Rico shrugged. "He too young to watch dat shit."

"Your mom not get high here?"

"She go to the crack house. I started takin' her pipe so she finally figured to go smoke someplace else." Rico turned back to the little kid still standing in the doorway. "Yo, man, this here Officer Coop. He cool, a'ight?"

"A'ight," the kid said agreeably, looking Cooper up and down.

"Get on home now, lil homie." Rico ran a big palm over the boy's close-cut hair. "I check you tomorrow."

They exchanged fist bumps and, after one last suspicious glance at Cooper, the kid scampered off. Cooper leant his shoulder against the wall.

"So, what's up?" he asked.

"Everythin' cool." Rico shrugged. "You off today?"

"Nah, I'm on in a coupla hours. Thought I'd come by and check you hadn't been sent to juvie yet."

"Naw, not yet." Rico glanced back at the screen door. "Yo, Coop, hang here a sec, okay? I'll be right back."

Wondering what the kid was up to, Cooper let him go without comment. And raised an eyebrow when Rico returned with a young baby balanced on his lean hip. The grin he gave Cooper was mildly embarrassed.

"Who's this?"

"Dis Pharell."

"Tell me he's not yours."

A sheepish laugh. "Yeah, he mine. He three months old now."

Rico adjusted his grip on his baby, moved out onto the front steps. Closed the door behind him. Cooper imagined his mother was zoned out on the couch. They sat down on the steps together.

"You still with the mother?" Cooper asked.

"Naw, she din't wanna holler at me after Pharell born. I get him once a week." Rico played with the baby's little fingers. "His grandmomma take care o' him rest o' the time."

"Dare I ask why his mother doesn't take care of him?"

"She too busy gettin' high and hangin' at the corner. Her momma a good lady, though. She gonna make sure Pharell grow up right."

Pharell stretched out his arms, tiny hands trying to grab Cooper's shirt. Rico grinned, held him out as he squirmed to get to the big man, fascinated by this new visitor. Cooper relented and took the baby, nestling the little boy in one solid arm. Pharell's head settled on Cooper's hard bicep, instantly ceasing to struggle.

"You good with kids, huh?" Rico said.

Cooper shrugged. "Never really thought about it. Dealt with a lotta kids on the job. Seen too many crack babies."

"I was a crack baby." Rico toyed with his shoelaces. "Spent ma first two months in the hospital jonesing. Ma momma never came one time to see me after she got out. When she come to pick me up, nurses din't know who the hell she was."

"Was your dad around then?"

"Not really. That first time you met me, he'd been livin' with us for a coupla months but usually he just came around when he needed money or crack. I ain't seen him since Child Services took me."

"So who raised you?"

"Ma grandmomma. She dead now. When I was eleven. Dat's why I'm happy Pharell's grandmomma takin' care of him. So he gonna have a better life. Not like me."

Pharell had curled his tiny digits around Cooper's index finger, gripping it with surprising strength. "You wanna be a good dad?"

"Jus' don't want ma son to bang." Rico peeked up at Cooper. "Officer Coop, I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry. Did you feed the baby?"

"He had some formula."

"Go grab his bottle and we'll get pizza."

Cooper expected the baby to howl as soon as Rico disappeared inside the house, but Pharell merely gazed placidly up, examining the unknown face high above him. He had Rico's eyes; there was no doubt who his father was.

"You're a chilled-out lil guy, ain't ya?" Cooper proffered his finger again for grasping.

Pharell chortled, seemingly in agreement.

"He like you," Rico announced, returning in a black Raiders jacket. "He a cool baby. I thought he was gonna act real crazy but he never gets mad."

"What'd you mean?"

"He got that disease. Sick-cell; you know the one dat makes your blood a weird shape."

"Sickle cell?"

"Yeah, dat's it. He got dat."

"That must be tough."

"Tough dat the insurance don't cover everythin'. So I gots to pay dat an' the medical bills what's left on top of it. His grandmomma don't have no money so it's jus' me, y'know?"

"And you make your money on the street."

"Where else I'm gonna get it from?"

Cooper realised he didn't have an answer to that. There was no one who was going to help this kid; no mysterious benefactor who would save him from the never ending struggle against poverty.

"Let's go get pizza," he said finally.

It was only when he had strode across the road to the Challenger and reached for the car door that he realised he was still holding baby Pharell.

X X X

Monday saw Tang in court over her divorce proceedings and Cooper was left to his own devices for the first time in their partnership. He could have headed out with Dewey and his nervy young boot but he volunteered to take the U-Boat. The look on Terry Hill's face was priceless; John Cooper would usually rather take a bath in his own pepper spray than spend a watch riding alone and taking reports.

But Cooper had his own plans for the day and going solo would allow him to follow through with them. So he dutifully took the radio calls for a few hours, scribbled mind-numbing details onto official forms, tried to look interested when enraged housewives complained about being able to hear their neighbours banging each other at 2am every night. Then he requested Code 6 and headed off not for a favoured lunch spot, but to Carter High School.

Coach Marlow looked somewhat taken aback to find Cooper appearing in his office doorway in full uniform.

"You on official business, Officer Cooper?"

"Nope, I just got a quiet time on the radio."

"Kids ain't gonna be here for 'nother hour."

"Yeah, I know." Cooper held up the tool bag that he had stashed in the U-Boat's trunk that morning. "Rico told me your showers aren't working."

Marlow's expression was one of pure surprise. "You've come to fix the showers?"

"Unless you got someone else to do the job."

"No sir, can't find the money for goddam water bottles, never mind workin' showers."

"It okay with you if I take a look, then?"

The coach's surprise was still clear. "You're takin' time outta your own life to fix showers for my football team?"

"That's the plan." Cooper unclipped his badge, slid it safely into his pocket. Removed his uniform shirt and Kevlar. "I got 45 minutes, so you'd better hope it's not a terminal problem."

X X X

Cooper was an hour before end of watch, drinking coffee at a little Italian place just off MLK when Sammy Bryant crashed down onto the stool next to him.

"Hey, Coop."

Cooper returned the greeting, checked out of the window. Saw Ben still in the cruiser, keeping an ear out for the radio. Raised a hand to him.

"What a fuckin' day," Sammy declared, waving at the waitress to order.

Cooper was amused. "Welcome to the uniform, my friend."

"I've been back on patrol ages."

"So quit crying like a girl about it."

"I'd rather cry like a girl than adopt a baby banger."

"I'm not adopting him. And how'd you know so much about him?"

"Everyone knows Avalon Pitbull."

"Yeah, so you said. What's the kid into?"

"Far as I know, he runs deliveries to the corners but his main job's enforcement. Kid fights exactly like his street name. Avalons want to sort out some beef but they don't wanna shoot the guy, they send Pitbull. He does beat-downs better than dudes twice his age."

"He's a goddam demon on the football field."

"Won't save him from the felony charge he's just waiting to take."

"It might."

"C'mon, Coop, you ain't naïve."

Cooper huffed out a sigh of frustration. "You never had this with a kid before, Sammy?"

For a second, pain blazed in Sammy's tawny eyes. "Actually, I did. Kid I got involved with, Juanito, he didn't even bang. He was smart, real smart. I wanted to help him stay away from all that shit."

"And what happened?"

"He killed another kid. Someone he'd gone through elementary school with. Kid beat up Juanito, so Juanito shot him through the heart. He's doin' fifteen years in CYA now. Taught me a lesson, Coop. You can't turn 'em away from the environment they're raised in. That's all they know; it's wired into their brains. Kill or be killed. You can't knock it outta them."

"You really believe that?"

"Before, I didn't. But since Juanito, yeah, I believe it. You can't save 'em, bro. They don't wanna be saved."

"Doesn't mean I can't try." Coop shook his head. "I'm a stubborn bastard, Sammy. Once I get somethin' in my head, I gotta give it everything. And right now I got it in my head that Rico has a chance."

A shrug from the smaller man. "That's your call, Coop. You been on these streets a lot longer than me and I ain't gonna argue with you. If you turn out to be right, I'll put my hands up and admit it." Sammy stood up, took the two coffees the waitress held out to him. "I just won't be holding my breath. See you later, bro."

"Be safe," Cooper replied, the automatic parting shot of every cop.

He watched Sammy and Ben drive off, then ordered another coffee and headed out to the U-Boat. Turning the radio up loud enough to be heard, he settled himself on the hood, face tilted up to the sun, and gave some quiet consideration to Sammy's words.

He was still thinking after he had gone through the motions of scribbling EoW on his reports, after he had showered without talking to any of the other guys. Even as he sat tying his desert boots, with Dewey performing an impression of a jaywalking wino, he didn't join in with the laughter.

"Yo, Coop, did your hamster die or something?" Dewey yelled as Cooper shouldered his duffel bag and made for the door.

"Yeah, it got poisoned eating your iguana," Cooper called back. "How'd you know already?"

He closed the door on the wave of laughter and headed towards the parking lot. Didn't get far.

"Coop, you got a visitor in the lobby," the desk sergeant shouted. "That kid again."

Cooper stopped in mid-stride. Didn't bother to ask which kid. "Thanks," he said abruptly.

Rico was sprawled in an uncomfortable chair, wearing an oversize Carter Football tee and clutched his battered shoulder pads in one hand. As he got to his feet, Cooper saw the swollen cheekbone and the barely-clotted cut above the eyebrow, the right eye half-closed and turning purple.

"You fixed the showers," he said before Cooper could speak.

"Got tired of you sweating on my car seats," Cooper replied caustically.

"You shoulda seen how happy everyone got when Coach turned 'em on. Water wasn't even rusty or nothin'."

"It was an easy enough job."

"You din't get paid."

"I don't need to get paid to fix a few showers."

Rico made eye contact. "It was a real nice thing you did, Coop. Thanks, man."

Cooper nodded his acknowledgement. "You forget to wear your helmet at practice or what?"

The boy's fingers instinctively went to palpate his eye. "Din't happen at football."

"You had a fight?"

"Kinda."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Naw, everythin' cool."

Cooper glanced at his watch. "So, looks like you turned up right in time for dinner."

"Can't tonight."

"You're saying no to food?"

"I don't have time right now."

"Must be something good if you're turning down dinner for it."

An uneasy smile. Rico adjusted his grip on his shoulder pads. "Can I leave my pads in your car? I don't want nothin' happenin' to them."

"That means you're not going home, then." Cooper reached out and took them. "You gonna tell me what's going on?"

Rico shook his head. Bounced warily on the balls of his feet. "I gotta go, Coop." He turned and made for the door.

"Where?" Cooper followed him to the exit.

"I got stuff to do."

"Rico, wait a goddam minute."

"I can't." Frustration ignited in the boy's voice. "I gotta go."

Then he was gone, running agilely across the street and disappearing into the low evening sunlight. Cooper didn't attempt to stop him, even though every instinct was telling him to do so. The same instincts were telling him Rico's bruises were the result of something more serious than a little scrap.

Feeling the call of O'Malley's, he headed round the block to the cop bar. As usual, there were several people he recognised at the bar but after exchanging a few greetings, he didn't join them. He grabbed a stool at the far end, happy to sink a quiet beer by himself.

He had barely sipped his first bottle before his phone rang. Somehow, he was not surprised to see Rico's name on the screen, even though the teenager had never called him before.

"Rico?"

For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of pounding, running footsteps and heavy breathing. Then angry shouts echoing.

"Rico, talk to me."

"Coop…" Finally the boy spoke, his words panted out of a tight throat. "Coop, you gotta help me, man."

"Where are you?"

Another moment of ragged breathing. Then a gasp and feet scrambling against the loose gravel.

"Coop, they gonna kill me if they catch me…"


	6. Chapter 6

**PART 6**

Ben Sherman was just climbing onto his bike, ready to spend the evening with a stunning six foot Brazilian beauty he had met a couple of weeks ago, when his phone rang.

"I need a favour, Boot." Cooper sounded uneasy and it was this note of doubt that caught Sherman's attention.

"What's goin' on?" he asked.

"Not exactly sure but Rico's got himself into some shit. I'd go in and get him out by myself but I figure there's at least one gun involved. I need cover."

Sherman didn't hesitate. Because he knew Cooper wouldn't hesitate if it had been Ben asking for help. "Where we heading?"

"Jungle."

"Shit."

"Yeah, exactly." An awkward pause. "You don't have to help me out, Ben. Say no if you don't wanna get involved."

"And let you go into the Jungle without backup? Don't be fuckin' stupid."

"Just sayin'."

"I'll be there in fifteen. You got the address?"

"Hillcrest Elementary playground. We need to go over the fence on Santa Rosalia but park up on Hillcrest first."

"Got it."

Ben shoved the phone back into his jeans, secured his helmet. The powerful engine roared as he turned the bike around and sped off towards West Adams. Able to cut through the traffic, he arrived before Cooper, removing his helmet as he remained astride the bike. Over the time he had worn his badge, he had learnt that the ghetto was never truly quiet, but he could hear and sense that it was currently calm.

He briefly wondered if Cooper had gotten the right address but quickly dismissed the idea. The big man was never wrong about stuff like this.

A few minutes later, the throaty growl of the Challenger announced Cooper's arrival. Ben climbed off the bike to greet his former partner.

Cooper looked like he meant business; hard biceps taut, shoulders bulging under his black tee, jaw tense.

"Thanks for coming," he said quietly.

Ben offered a grin. "You've come full circle, Coop. You're almost back on Dorsey territory."

Cooper allowed an amused snort but sobered quickly. "Listen, I'm serious. We're going in blind here. You don't have to do this."

"You're starting to sound like Chickie used to," Ben said firmly.

As expected, that was enough to rile Cooper and shake any doubt from his thoughts. "The hell I do."

He pulled his gun, checked the clip, watched as Ben did the same.

"Just remember we've no Kevlar before you do any of your heroic shit," he warned the younger man.

"As long as you don't go in like a bull, I won't have to do any heroic shit."

"I won't put you in any danger."

"Think I don't know that? Jeez, Coop, you saved my life not so long ago. Whatever happened in the past is long over now; I trust you."

Cooper opened his mouth to reply but seemed to realise he didn't need to. His expression said he was thinking back to that day, Ben dangling by his fingertips twenty feet above a concrete floor, about to fall.

_He was losing his grip. His sweaty fingers couldn't keep hold of the slippery metal. He was about to plunge to the concrete floor below. Images of a smashed skull, broken neck, flashed in his mind. He struck out, scrabbling desperately for a grip._

_Then a hard, strong arm was around him and suddenly he wasn't falling anymore._

"_Ben, quit struggling! I got you."_

_Sherman's brain instinctively reacted to the voice that had always given reassurance and security. He stopped fighting, even though he was gripping the rock-solid bicep with both hands as tightly as he could. He found he couldn't draw enough breath into his lungs to yell._

"_I got you," Cooper repeated. _

_And that old belief was telling Sherman that as long as John Cooper was there, no harm could come to him._

The two men looked at each other, silently acknowledging what had gone before. Acknowledging that redemption had come to Cooper and with it had returned Ben Sherman's respect.

"You ready?" Cooper asked.

"What we gonna do if a civilian calls this in?"

"Around here? You gotta be kidding me." Cooper obviously saw the lack of conviction in Sherman's expression. "I know these streets, Ben. Dorsey's two blocks away; I used to walk home through here every night. There's nobody gonna call it in."

Ben gave a short nod. "Okay, then. You're contact, I'm cover."

Weapons nestled comfortably in their palms, Cooper in the lead, they jogged silently around the block. The playground wasn't in darkness yet but the low evening sunlight cast shadows across it as the two men easily scaled the wire fence.

"There's no one here," Ben said under his breath.

Cooper was moving towards one of the tables under the covered lunch area. Ben instinctively followed him, crouching down beside the bigger man so they were shielded from immediate view.

"Hillcrest was my elementary school. Any fights gonna happen round there, they happen on this playground. I spilt a fair amount of blood on this asphalt back in the day."

"Yours or others'?" Ben couldn't help but ask.

Cooper's grin told him the answer.

"Coop…" Ben started again but was cut off as Cooper raised his hand.

"Listen," Cooper whispered.

Sure enough, the sound of enraged shouts drifted towards them and the slapping of sprinting sneakers against asphalt grew closer. Ben tensed, adjusted his grip on his weapon.

A moment later, a figure appeared on Santa Rosalia, a tall, muscular youth barrelling at scorching pace for the playground fence. Two others were hot on his heels, barely two steps behind him as he vaulted the fence. Yet another was further back, struggling to run.

The lead runner, Ben presumed to be Rico, had taken the jump too fast and stumbled on landing. The lead chaser took the opportunity and hurled himself forward, just catching Rico's heels to send him sprawling onto his front. Instantly, the two chasers were on him, fists and feet flailing.

Ben went to stand but felt the iron grip of Cooper's hand on his forearm.

"Wait a second," Cooper whispered. "Always see how the fight's gonna turn out before you go steaming in."

"That's your boy gettin' whipped," Ben hissed back.

"There's no way those punks can beat him to death; I'm more worried they're gonna shoot him."

Sure enough, Rico had managed to battle his way back to his feet. He was taking on both of his pursuers, fighting like a wildcat, the strength of his blows preventing the others from getting close enough to take him down.

Ben kept an uneasy eye on the third chaser, who had now slowed to a pained walk but was getting closer to the fence. Then a grunt of escaping air came from Rico and he dropped, a sledgehammer blow to the gut knocking the wind out of him.

"Now!" Cooper hissed.

Ben knew he was faster than Cooper but the order to strike had taken him by surprise and he stumbled as he shot forward. Cooper got there first, hurling his powerful body into the first attacker as he went to land a blow that would have surely shattered Rico's nose.

They both flew several feet across the asphalt, the youth disappearing under Cooper's significantly larger frame. The second attacker scrambled a few paces back, his hand scrabbling at the waistband of his sweats. He only had time to pull his 9mil free before Ben's Glock was trained on his sternum.

"Drop it!" Ben yelled.

Cooper had disabled his youth with a knee in the spine and one arm twisted to breaking point. He twisted round to check on Ben, watching the second teenager struggle with indecision, battling between instincts of self-preservation and the desire to prove himself.

Cooper raised his own weapon, clicked off the safety. The noise jerked the second boy's head towards the big man.

"You're gonna have two bullets in your chest in ten seconds if you don't drop it," Cooper growled.

The 9mil clattered to the asphalt. And the crack of a fired bullet reverberated around the playground.

Ben and the youth hit the deck. Rico finally moved, scrambling for the cover of the lunch tables. Cooper, once again covering his captive with his own body, to prevent his escape rather than to protect him, risked raising his head to confirm what he had already guessed.

Sure enough, the slowest chaser has reached the fence but, instead of climbing it, had stopped on the other side and pulled his own gun. Another bullet ripped up a chunk of playground a foot from Cooper's thigh.

Ben raised his weapon, knew he had a good chance of taking the kid out in one shot, but he was reluctant to fire. Shooting meant this could go official. Shooting meant he and Cooper were both risking their badges and their freedom. So he fought his instinct, looked to Cooper for direction.

"Get under cover," Cooper ordered.

Ben didn't pause to question the order. He grabbed the first shooter, still spread-eagled on the ground trying to shield his head with his arms, hustled him to the nearest cover, the large blue pillars that guarded the second lunch area. Cooper and his captive followed moments later.

"Shit, Coop, you're gonna have us ending up on the LAPD memorial wall!" Ben panted.

"Not tonight, bro. He's gonna run."

"How'd you know?" Ben gripped his weapon tighter as another shot went wide.

"I just know."

Cooper's youth raised his head. "You shooting your own homeboys, mo'fo!" he bellowed across the playground.

The shots stopped. Cooper glanced around the pillar. The kid was frozen with indecision, his gun wavering as he tried to decide what to do.

"You'd better run before I get a holda you, shithead!" Cooper roared, his voice like thunder across the silent space.

That was enough scare him into a decision. He sprinted away as fast as his legs would move, almost falling in his hurry to escape.

Cooper looked across at Ben, keeping his face completely neutral as if nothing unexpected had happened. "Keep Moron 1 and 2 safe a second."

Ben stood, trained his weapon on the two captives, as Cooper jogged back across the playground and picked up the first discarded 9mil. Made it safe and hooked into the back of his jeans.

"Pitbull!" he yelled across to the other lunch area. Rico's head appeared obediently. "You hurt?"

"I'm cool."

"Stay there."

Cooper moved back to Ben, nodded at the smaller man that it was safe to holster his weapon. Ben stepped back, curious to see what Cooper planned to do next.

"Who da fuck are you, man?" the first youth spat out. Neither was older than eighteen, both lean muscled and coiled with adrenaline-fuelled energy. And both were scared at what this large, brutish white man was about to do to them.

"Me? I'm the fairy fuckin' godmother."

"You gonna shoot us?" the second asked, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. Cooper still hadn't holstered his own gun.

"Not tonight, Cinderella. Tonight I'm just gonna warn you. You beef with Pitbull again, I'm gonna come after you and leave your corpses in a place only the rats will find you."

"You're cops," the first stated flatly, realising the situation was hopeless. They weren't going to die that night but whatever beef they had raised was now over.

"Do you see me waving a badge in your face?"

"Don't need to. Only cops threaten like dat."

Cooper crouched down to the speaker, pushed his face very close to the boy's. The kid tried to edge away but found himself trapped up against the pillar.

"I'm doin' you a favour tonight. You're gonna walk away free and unhurt. Unless you give me a reason not to do that."

The kid swallowed hard, kept his eyes fixed on Cooper's. Cooper held the gaze for a long moment, then slowly stood up.

"I'm gonna let you go now. You've got one chance to get as far away from here as possible. Or I'm gonna shoot you. And then I'm gonna laugh. You understand what I'm saying?"

An instant nod.

"You too, dipshit?" Cooper asked Ben's captive.

"Yessir."

"Then go."

As if responding to a starter's pistol, both boys scrambled to their feet and hurtled away, scrabbling over the fence and disappearing into the safety of the Jungle.

"We'd better get outta here before they bring a few more P-Stones back to party," Ben said.

"Rico, let's go!" Cooper called over.

Rico immediately jumped up, ran across to the big man. "Shit, Coop," he panted.

"Shit's about right." Cooper took hold of the back of Rico's neck, guided him firmly to the fence. Vaulting over, all three walked swiftly back to the bike and the Challenger.

"Get in the car," Cooper told Rico. The kid followed orders without argument, not even bothering to inject his customary swagger as he moved.

"He's pretty shook up," Ben commented, already astride his bike and securing his helmet. He didn't want to waste time hanging around here; they had got away easily with this stunt and he didn't want to push their luck.

"So he should be," Cooper grunted. "We're heading to my place, follow us back and I'll crack some beers. My ass woulda been fried if you'd not come with me tonight."

Ben thought briefly of the waiting Brazilian. Then he put the bike in gear and headed for Mount Washington.

X X X

In Cooper's living room, he doled out chilled bottles of Mexican beer, giving Rico the hard eye as he handed him one.

"Not sure you deserve beer."

"I like milk as well," Rico mumbled, still somewhat shamefaced by the evening's events.

Cooper saw Ben's lips jerk at that childish admission but the young cop kept his expression neutral. He was watching Rico closely, interested in how the teenager would react to having been saved by two people he should have been natural enemies with.

Cooper sat himself on the arm of Ben's chair, regarded Rico as the kid sat bolt upright on the couch.

"So, Ben and I just saved your ass. And risked ours in the process. I figure that means you owe us an explanation."

Rico sipped beer as he considered his words carefully. "This P-Stone was waiting for me after school; we'd set up some deal with him. He ripped us off. So the homeboys sent me over to deal wid him. But he bought two homies and two nine mils."

"You came on your own?"

"Naw, one guy came wid me. He split when he saw the guns." Rico's lips curled. "Goddam pussy, man."

"What'd you sell the P Stone?" Ben asked.

Rico's teeth kiss seemed to be out of habit rather than derision. "Ain't tellin' you dat, cuz."

"Drugs?" Ben pressed. "Weapons? Bullets?"

"Man, get outta here, I ain't givin' you nothin'."

Cooper lost patience with the forced attitude. "Rico, get here," he ordered, standing up. He hustled Rico into the kitchen, glared hard at him. "What's your problem with Ben?"

"I don't know him, man. How do I know I can trust him? Maybe I tell him somethin' and he bring his homeboys to raid ma house tomorrow."

"I trust him, isn't that good enough for you? I already told you, he's a good guy. And in case you didn't notice, he put himself on the line for you tonight."

"He did that for you, not me."

"The fact that he did it at all should be enough for you to show him some goddam respect." Cooper drew himself to his full height, crossed his arms across his barrel chest, making himself look as big as possible because he knew if there was one thing this project kid respected, it was strength. "Either that or you know where the door is."

Rico eyeballed him from a long moment, his dilemma written all over his face. He was a product of his environment and where he came from, you didn't trust cops. But he had come to trust John Cooper deeply and that was conflicting with every street instinct running through him.

"A'ight," he said eventually. "I'll be cool."

He kept his word and although he wouldn't answer any further questions about what had happened that night, he was not openly hostile to Ben and even talked a little about his football season. Eventually the lure of Brazilian fun grew too much for Sherman and Cooper walked him out to his bike.

"I appreciate you helping me out, Ben," he said as Sherman slid astride the seat. "I owe you."

Ben shook his head, tightened his helmet strap.

"No, you don't." He paused, met Cooper's eyes. "How many times you gonna do this, Coop? You gonna charge in and save Rico's ass everytime he starts some beef?"

"You know I'm not."

"Does the kid know?" Ben hesitated. "He thinks the world of you, that's obvious. And he respects you. But you can't think that's enough to get him off the streets."

"I don't. Just trust me on this one, Boot. I know what I'm doing."

Ben kick-started the bike. "You usually do, bro. You need backup again, I'm on the end of the phone, okay?"

Cooper grinned caustically.

"Thought you were gonna be on the end of a Brazilian chick."


	7. Chapter 7

**PART 7**

"I din't say thanks," Rico said once Cooper had retrieved another beer and returned to the living room. "So thanks. I 'preciate what you did."

Cooper grunted, drank down half the bottle in one. "You got dried blood all over your face. Bathroom's on the right at the top of the stairs. I'll be in the kitchen."

He could hear the kid's heavy footsteps thumping around upstairs as he searched the refrigerator for anything a teenager was likely to eat. Rico returned at an easy jog, his face scrubbed clean to reveal the deep bruising, although he didn't seem fazed by it.

"Can I sit out in the back yard?" he asked. "It's hot as hell in here."

"Go for it." Cooper unlocked the back door, led the way out. "The cactus bites, be warned."

Rico wasn't interested in plants; he'd spotted something he liked the look of. "Man, you got a pool!" His eyes lit up with sheer childish glee when he saw the glistening water.

Cooper couldn't help but smile at the kid's delight. "What, you never seen a pool before?"

"Where you think I get the money to go swim? Closest I get to a pool is when we set the fire hydrants off in the street."

Cooper was amused. He regarded the teenager for a moment. "Go ahead, then."

Rico gave him the suspicious eye for a split second. Then the huge sneakers were kicked off, the baggy tee was thrown to the grass but he didn't waste time unbuttoning his jeans. Chocolate-brown planes of lean, hard muscle rippled as he broke into a sprint, hurled himself into the air. Splashed down into the water with a howl of pure joy.

He swam for over an hour, leaping in and out of the pool like a young child. Cooper retreated to the kitchen, threw together a lasagne big enough to satisfy even a hungry teenager's appetite. He liked to cook; it slowed down his thought process, relaxed him without him even noticing.

It was a hot evening and the setting sun had turned a fiery orange over the LA hills. When Cooper stepped out into the back yard, Rico was sat on the edge of the pool, gazing up at the sunset.

"Looks good, huh?" Cooper said.

"Never watched no sunset before," the kid said.

Cooper opened his mouth to ask if he was serious, but the appreciation shining in the boy's eyes convinced him that he was not playing. He set the food down on the outdoor table, saw Rico's nostrils flare at the smell.

"You like lasagne?" he asked.

"Man, I like anythin' smells dat good." Rico scrambled to his feet, the glistening droplets making his long torso shine already starting to dry in the heat. A homemade tattoo, a blue-inked pitbull, stood out on the curve of muscle jutting from his left shoulder. He jogged over to the table, wet jeans hanging low on his narrow hips.

"Go ahead." Cooper saw him hesitate as he slid into one of the metal chairs, remembering some vestige of manners his grandmother must have taught him.

Within seconds the boy had piled his plate and was shovelling food into his mouth as if he expected it to be snatched away from him any moment. When he saw Cooper calmly forking salad, he finally slowed down.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't have to apologise."

They ate in silence until Rico started on his second plateful.

"You played football in high school, right?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Where'd you go?"

"Dorsey. In the days when you were lucky if you got through every day without blood gettin' spilt."

"Shit, man, Dorsey some mean place. Awesome football school though, right?"

"Yeah, playin' football was the only way to stay alive without gettin' mixed up in the gangs."

"You never banged, Coop?"

"Nah, wasn't my style. I liked to do things my own way."

"You get in trouble at school?"

"Every frickin' week. I liked to fight." Cooper shrugged. "Everybody stopped callin' me out once they realised I could knock the shit outta them."

"You pretty brave, huh?"

Cooper shrugged. "There's not much scares me."

"And if people need help, you gonna try save 'em."

Cooper gave momentary consideration to the uncompromising statement. "If I can, yeah."

"You figure you can help me, right? Cos you tryin' to save me."

"That what you think I'm doing?"

Rico made eye contact, nodded.

"How'd you feel about that?" Cooper asked.

A moment's silence. "Good, I guess." A cheeky grin. "Yo, if I don't get put outta class next week, do I get to see the Raiders again?"

Cooper chuckled. "How much money you think cops make? Two weeks of good behaviour and I'll get tickets for USC."

"Man, dat's harsh. Two whole weeks?"

"Take it or leave it, hotshot."

Rico grinned widely and for a moment, once again looked like the talkative, polite kid who had been grateful to Cooper for buying him a burger.

"You got a wife or anythin'?"

"Divorced."

"Kids?"

"Nope."

"So you got this big ol' house all to yo'self?"

"Yep."

"Man, if I ever had this much space to call ma own, swear I'd be so fuckin' happy."

"Maybe you will one day, if you make the NFL."

"I got a letter. From UCLA. Said they liked ma last game." A smile that was both proud and shy at the same time. "Couldn't believe some coach came to watch me play."

"Thought you weren't interested in college. The Avalons is your future, remember."

An awkward shrug. "Don't mean I can't still dream."

"Why not make it more than a dream?"

"You know why."

"Rico, when I first met you, you were a really good kid. I didn't think you'd turn out to be a banger."

"Everyone gotta survive somehow, man. After I got taken to that first group home, when I got beat up, I decided then no one was gonna beat on me ever again. So I started fightin' back. The homeboys noticed me pretty fast."

Cooper sought the boy's eye contact, managed to secure it. "Why don't you get out, kid?"

"C'mon, Coop, you ain't dumb. You know it don't work like that." Rico shook his head. "Let it go, a'ight."

They lapsed into silence. Cooper stood up to take the dishes back inside; Rico seized the plates before he could and ferried them to the dishwasher. Hiding a smile, Cooper went to pull the ice cream out of the freezer.

Rico waited until they were settled in the yard again, until he had seized his spoon and attacked the mint choc chip.

"Yo, you said when you first met me, you was too messed up to help me. What was goin' on wid you?"

Cooper looked up sharply, surprised by the question. Blew out a long breath, drank another mouthful of beer.

"You don't gotta tell me if you don't want," Rico said hastily. "Some stuff gotta be private, huh?"

"No, it's okay." Cooper shook his head. "No reason to hide it. I was taking drugs."

"Drugs?" Rico's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"Not like heroin or crack. Prescription drugs. Painkillers, strong ones. I'd messed up my back and I was struggling with the pain, so I started taking this stuff and eventually I built up a tolerance to it. Ended up almost OD'ing every day just so I could get outta bed and go to work."

"You were takin' that stuff when you met me?"

"Yeah, and it was pretty bad. But it got worse after that. Ben got me out of it eventually, got me into rehab and surgery. I bounced back."

"That's good, huh? Not many people come back." Rico's gaze was unflinching. "An' you don't take nothin' now, right?"

"Only beer and whisky," Cooper grinned.

"Your back don't hurt no more?"

"Gets sore sometimes." Cooper was amused by the kid's questions. "Go check the bathroom cabinet, Detective. I don't even take ibuprofen for it."

The suspicion in Rico's eyes faded. "My mom always used to say she was gonna get clean, when I was a lil kid. I stopped believin' her pretty fast."

"Have I lied to you yet?"

"Nope," Rico said without hesitation.

"Then I ain't gonna start now." Cooper stretched, regarded the remains of his beer. "You want a ride home?"

Rico shook his head. "Don't wanna go home." He tilted his head up at the velvety night sky. "Never been in a place so quiet as this. You can see the stars an' everything. Like a different world or somethin'. I don't wanna go back to all the yellin' an' shootin' an' shit."

"Can't avoid it forever, kid."

"Feels safe here. Like you can jus' chill and not worry 'bout nothin'."

Cooper sighed softly, gazed into his bottle as he thought through his next move. "All right, you can sleep here tonight. Only tonight. You hear me?"

"Don't worry, cuz, I ain't movin' in."

"Damn right you're not."

Rico's lips jerked in an embarrassed smile. "You a good guy, Coop," he said quietly.

"You won't be saying that when I drag you outta bed at 6am and make you go to school."

X X X

The teenager ended up sleeping on the couch. He'd succumbed to slumber before the DVD of Any Given Sunday had ended and Cooper hadn't had the heart to wake him. He figured the couch was probably more comfortable than the kid's bed at home anyway.

It was 5.30am when the alarm rudely shook Cooper from sleep. He stumbled around the bathroom, noticing even in the haze of tiredness that Rico had left it spotless after his clean-up. Handfuls of cold water finally banished the remnants of sleep and Cooper lumbered downstairs in pursuit of coffee.

Rico hadn't stirred, wrapped in a blanket and sprawled on his back across the width of the sofa. With his face relaxed, despite the bruising, he looked like any other teenage kid. In no way did he appear a dangerous baby banger. If Sammy Bryant could have seen the boy at that moment, he may have understood why Cooper was so determined to help him.

"Rico," Cooper called as he headed into the kitchen. "Time to go, kid."

It took four more shouts before the kid finally stirred, and a further two at increasing volume before he got off the couch and joined Cooper in the kitchen.

"You drink coffee?"

Rico shook his head. "Juice, please," he mumbled, eyes still half closed.

"Wow, a please. That's impressive at this time in the morning."

"You go to work at this time?"

"Gym first; I didn't work out yesterday. You wanna come?"

Interest immediately sparked in the sleep-heavy eyes. "Yeah, sure."

"Then I'm driving you to school."

"You gonna drop me off round the block, right?"

"I was planning on walking you right through the doors."

"Cuz, you gonna get me killed."

"You're gonna end up getting killed if you run the streets instead of goin' to school."

"I'll go, I swear. Just don't walk me in."

"Can I trust you not to take off?"

"Hell yeah."

Cooper was amused. "You think 'cos I'm white I'm stupid?"

"Coop, dis ain't never about race. You ain't white, black or brown. You blue. Dat's what's the real dif'rence 'tween us."

Cooper gave his infamous half-smile. Drained his coffee cup and grabbed the car keys.

"Nah, kid. The real difference between us is my gang's eventually gonna win every war it's fighting."

X X X

"Is it true?" Tang asked.

"Huh?" Cooper, at the wheel, wasn't paying much attention.

"That you took your little homeboy to work out this morning?"

"How'd you know that?"

"Martinez saw you at the gym; the guys were all talking about it before roll call."

"So what?"

"So he must have stayed at your place if he was with you that early."

"So what?" Cooper repeated, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Did you check all your guns were accounted for before you left?"

"Jesus Christ, Jessica, you on the rag or something?" Cooper didn't normally resort to such slurs, preferred to leave that sort of stuff to Dewey, but Tang was riling him.

"Thought you said you weren't adopting him," Tang persisted.

"Thought you were a cop, not a slapdick."

He saw Tang's jaw tighten in frustration and she fell silent. She was still not talking two hours later, when Cooper bought a call for unknown trouble at the Green Meadows rec centre.

A group of black teenagers had gathered on the small stand of bleachers, drinking beer and smoking weed as they enjoyed the early evening sunlight. They were rowdy and loud but they didn't seem to be causing any particular problem until they caught sight of the black-and-white. Then they were up on their feet, hurling bottles and cans at the car.

"Knock it off!" Cooper roared out of the window as he pulled to a halt on the opposite side of the street.

Tang was already on her personal radio, requesting backup, but Cooper wasn't intimidated by a few kids and was out of the car, hand on his baton. The missiles were still coming but they were flying far enough wide for him to be sure they were not actually aiming to hit him.

"Do I seriously need to get four cars out here for you dipshits?" he yelled.

"We just hangin', homie," someone hollered.

"Quit throwing shit, then."

The flying objects ceased but Cooper had been distracted by another group of teenagers approaching down East 88th. He saw them stop abruptly when they spotted the cruiser, most of them immediately turning and ambling back off in the opposite direction. Only two remained and somehow Cooper wasn't surprised to see one was Rico. He was kept company by another teenager, built like a linesman, partway between flab and solid muscle.

"You involved in this?" Cooper demanded, moving closer to them.

"No."

"Then get the hell away from here."

A grin softened Rico's face. "Yessir, Officer Coop."

The big guy crossed his arms across his barrel chest. "Hey homes, how the fuck you know this guy's name?"

"Dude, everyone around here knows Coop. He da man in these parts." Rico was laughing now, relaxed.

"The fuck he is." The big guy scowled. "Looks like a pussy to me."

"What you say, homes?" Rico's features hardened instantly.

"Hell's gotten into you, cuz?"

"You don't talk 'bout him like dat. He cool, a'ight?"

"He po-po."

"Don't matter. Coop's golden. You hearin' what I'm sayin', homes?"

"What da hell, man?"

"Cuz, jus' go wait for me back at the yard." Rico's voice brooked no argument and even though the other boy was significantly bigger, he flashed their sign and ambled away around the block.

"C'mere," Cooper said grimly to Rico.

"I din't do nothin'."

"Then what you hangin' around here for?"

"To see if you gonna shoot any of da homeboys."

"You used to think me shooting gangsters was cool."

"Times change, homie."

"You shot anybody yet?"

A defensive shrug, no response.

Cooper checked no one was within hearing distance, dropped his voice. "Look, Rico, I still remember that little kid who hugged me so hard I thought I'd never get him to let go."

"'Cos you were the first person in a long time who actually seemed to give a shit about me. I felt safe with you; I din't want to walk away from dat." Rico shook his head, his own words now becoming a whisper. "You seemed like the biggest, strongest guy in the world that day."

"And now I just seem like some cop who buys you food?"

"No!" The denial was quick and sharp. "No, man, you know I don't think dat. I promised you I'd stay in school today and I did. Dat doesn't show you I respect you?"

"But an hour after practice you're runnin' the streets again."

"I gotta make money, Coop! Pharell got doctor bills, his medication gonna have to be refilled at the end o' the month. How I gonna pay for all dat if I stay home?"

"How about you ask me?"

"I don' want yo' money. I ain't hangin' wid you for that, if dat's what you think."

"It isn't."

"Then don't say dat again, man. I don't like it."

"I'm not trying to insult you."

"I know. But still, don't be sayin' shit like dat."

Cooper nodded his understanding. Glanced back at Tang, who was leaning against the cruiser, arms crossed, trying her best to listen into the quiet conversation.

"Get outta here, kid," he said quietly. "I'll catch you later."

Rico hesitated a moment, then held out his knuckles for a fist bump. Jogged away towards the Gardens and was lost from view.

"Any plans for that bunch?" Tang asked sarcastically, indicating the group on the bleachers.

Cooper turned back to the car, pulling the keys free from his belt. The teenagers had quietened down, run out of beer and of missiles.

"They're kids. Let them have some fun."

X X X

An hour before the end of watch, another unknown trouble call for the rec centre. Cooper ignored the first radio announcement, hoping someone else would buy it. On the repeat, he gave up, accepted this wasn't going to be his day, and announced they would be attending.

This time there wasn't a crowd. Just three figures, hands extended as they exchanged goods. Cooper and Tang remained inside the cruiser, watched as business was completed and the three sauntered off in different directions. The seller exited the rec park, ambled down East 89th, then broke into a jog and ducked down one of the alleys.

Cooper pulled the car quietly forward towards the alley entrance. Slammed on the brakes as he heard gunshots ripping through the still air.

"Shit," he hissed, scrambling out of the car, snatching his weapon.

A second later the seller was sprinting back out of the alley, almost running smack into the two cops. Cooper roared a much worse expletive as the suspect juked sharply, trying to cut around them, and knocked his navy ball cap off in the process.

Cooper lunged, ending the chance of escape. Grabbed the front of Rico's shirt, slammed his back up against the wall. The teenager may have been well-grown but he didn't stand a chance against Cooper's brute strength and he was lifted clean off his feet. Held a foot off the ground, pinned against the brick.

"Coop, man!" he hollered.

"Shut the fuck up and answer me. Was it you firing the shots?"

"Naw! Let me down, man!"

Cooper tightened his grip, pressed harder.

"Coop, I ain't got no gun! I din't fire, swear to God! Put me down!"

Cooper held him for several more seconds, just to prove he was firmly in control. Bigger and stronger and more than ready to demonstrate the fact. Then he set him back down and released his grip.

"Turn around and spread." He said it quietly but the steel in his voice prevented any protest from Rico. The kid faced the wall, placed his palms flat, spread his legs. Waited, rigid, breathing hard.

It took all of ten seconds for Cooper to find the baggie of pills secreted in the oversize jeans.

"You fuckin' idiot," he growled.

"It's jus' Special K, man."

"Read the fuckin' newspapers, numbnuts. Ketamine's a Schedule I substance now."

"There's only two in there, Coop!"

"'Cos you already sold the rest!"

"Can't nobody prove that! No way the DA's gonna give me a charge for two pills!"

Cooper tossed the baggie to Tang, pulled free his cuffs. Seized Rico's arms and hooked him up.

"Coop…"

"Do I look like I give a shit what you got to say?"

Cooper hauled him to the car, shoved him roughly into the back. Closed the door hard. Refused to the look at the kid's face. Refused to see the expression of fury and betrayal.

X X X

He left Tang to handle the paperwork. Rico would be processed at Hollywood but he would be booked at the juvenile hall, released when his social worker bothered to show up. Cooper would not be there when he was free to go.

He went and sat in the empty locker room. Dropped his head into his hands, thought through what he had just done. Rico wouldn't take a charge on so few pills; he wouldn't spend the night in jail and he wouldn't have yet another line added to his record. Cooper had not acted out of anger; his actions had been deliberate. Rico had disrespected him by returning to deal at a location Cooper had attended so recently. Cooper would not stand for that; he couldn't.

But now what? Where did they go from here? In proving his hard-ass reputation, Cooper knew he had fractured the fragile bonds between him and the young banger. But what choice had he had? He couldn't let the kid get away with that shit. Rico had to understand he didn't run the show.

But that didn't make Cooper feel any better about what he had just done.


	8. Chapter 8

**PART 8**

The next day, after a not inconsiderate amount of soul searching, Cooper showed up at Carter in time for football practice. Only to find Rico was absent. So he drove over to the Gardens, hammered on the kid's front door to no avail.

"You lookin' for Pitbull?" a young voice asked. The kid from next-door, regarding Cooper closely but without the suspicion he had previously portrayed.

Cooper nodded. "You know where he's at?"

"He gone to pick up Pharell. He gonna be back in a minute."

"Okay, thanks. I'll wait."

Cooper walked back over to the Challenger, leant against the hood. The little kid followed him.

"Pit's mad," he announced. "He got picked up yesterday."

"Yeah, I know."

"You his friend, right?"

"Guess so."

"So you ain't gonna arrest him?"

"Not today."

The kid nodded up the street. "Pit right there."

Pushing a battered stroller containing his infant son, Rico's face changed the second he spotted the Challenger. Immediately become closed, expressionless. The classic banger look.

"Yo, come take Pharell inside, lil homie," he called to the young kid, who immediately jogged to Rico's side, waited until the baby had been lifted free from the stroller before carefully carrying him into the house.

Rico straightened up, eyeballed his visitor.

"What you want, Officer Coop?" he asked.

"So now I'm Officer again?" Cooper asked.

"You arrested me, man. Dat makes you po-po."

"What'd you expect me to do, kid? You always knew what I was; I never pretended otherwise. No matter what friendship we got, I was never gonna ignore you selling drugs."

"I tol' you I had to get money for Pharell!" The anger, previously controlled, exploded in the boy's voice.

"Rico, I can help you out with a lotta stuff, but not drug dealing. That shit's too much. You didn't seriously expect me to let you get away with it?"

"I din't expect you to cuff me and put me in the back of your cruiser."

"You didn't leave me much choice."

Rico leant down to adjust Pharell's jacket. "So, what'd you want?"

"I came to check you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"You didn't go to practice today."

A hard stare. "I had work to do."

"This how it's gonna be?" Cooper asked. "We back to square one?"

"You put us there, homie."

"And now you think you can't trust me?"

"You arrested me."

"You set yourself up for that one, kid. It doesn't mean I've betrayed you."

Rico shrugged. "Yeah, whatever. I gotta go, man. Ma son needs feedin'."

"You gonna be at practice tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"I'll see you there, then."

Another shrug. "Whatever, man."

But as Rico wrestled the stroller inside his house, Cooper saw him look back. To reassure himself that Cooper was still there.

X X X

Cooper didn't make it to Carter's football field the next day. He didn't even make it to the end of watch. Lunch has barely been consumed when his phone rang and he saw Lydia Adams' name flashing on the screen. And that hard stone sinking in his stomach told him what she was calling for.

"Cooper." He forced normality into his voice.

"Hey, John, you got a sec?"

"Go for it, Lydia."

"We just got called to the body of a baby banger out at Barnsdall Park. Male black, maybe sixteen years old. We think he was Avalons. He had your card in his pocket but no other ID; any chance you could head over and see if you remember who he was?"

Cooper drew in a deep breath. "He got a tattoo of a pitbull on his left shoulder?"

"Can't tell at the moment; he was wrapped up in trash bags and we don't wanna cut away too much at the scene."

"All right, I'll be there in fifteen."

"Thanks, Coop."

"Who were the primary uniforms?"

"Sherman and Sammy."

"Okay, thanks." Cooper cancelled the call and looked at the phone display. Two missed calls from Ben he hadn't heard.

"What's happening?" Tang asked.

"Homicide have picked up a body in Barnsdall with my card in his pocket. Lydia Adams wants me to see if I recognise him."

Tang met his gaze and he knew he wasn't disguising his fears. "You think it's Rico?"

Cooper didn't know what to say, so he just nodded. Climbed into the driver's seat before Tang had the chance. Didn't push the speedometer on the drive.

There was no rush to see what he had already accepted he was about to.

X X X

Tang reached to open her door as Cooper parked beside Lydia Adams' department Ford but was stilled by a swift headshake from her partner.

"Wait in the car," Cooper said quietly. "I won't be long."

He climbed out before Tang could offer any argument, walked over to where the two homicide detectives stood conferring.

"How you doin', Coop?" Reuben greeted him, knowing the veteran street cop of old.

"Hey, Reub." Cooper accepted a handshake, nodded his hello to Lydia Adams. "Lydia."

"Thanks for coming out, John."

"No problem." Cooper was looking for Ben, spotted him across the other side of the crime scene, wrapping police line tape around the trees to form a protective cordon. If he'd noticed Cooper's arrival, he didn't acknowledge it, kept his attention fixed on his task. Sammy was in their cruiser, head bowed as he scribbled details in the log.

Lydia led the way over to the body, nodded to the technicians to move aside. The trash bags did little to conceal the form of long legs, torso, arms. Only the head was unwrapped, revealing a slim, muscular neck, hair razored in a precise pattern. The full lips were relaxed, eyes closed.

In death he looked hopelessly young, a baby in a world he should never have known. Cooper closed his eyes for a moment, held his breath until he was sure he could exhale without letting his emotion show.

"Yeah, I know him," he said, his voice heavy and low in his throat. "Richard Ellis. Known as Rico. Street name Pitbull. Fifteen years old."

"Avalons?" Lydia asked.

"Yeah." Cooper swallowed hard. "Football player at Carter."

"Okay, that's something else we can check into. But chances are it's gonna be the Rollin 60s; they been warring with the Avalons recently." Lydia's empathetic eyes were gentle as she looked at the big cop. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You know him well?"

"I was tryin' to help him out a little. Push him towards football instead of the streets." Cooper turned away from the body. "He wasn't a bad kid."

"I'm sorry, John."

Cooper didn't acknowledge the sentiment. "How long's he been out here?"

"We got a death estimate of twelve to fourteen hours. He wasn't killed here; we figure he was dumped early morning."

"You got any ideas?"

"A Rollin 60s kid got drive-by'd last week. Maybe this is the retaliation. Think this kid coulda been the shooter?"

Cooper was quiet for a moment, trying to get his thoughts together. He instinctively wanted to deny that Rico would be involved in anything like that but his cop training was warning him that in the world the kid had inhabited, nothing could be ruled out.

"I don't know," he eventually admitted.

He forced himself to take one last look at Rico's body. To say a silent farewell to the kid he had tried so hard to help. And to say he was sorry for failing him.

"It okay with you if I come do the death notification?" he asked Lydia, hearing the tightness in his own voice.

"Sure, if you want." Lydia nodded to Rueben. "You alright to hang here if I go with John and Tang?"

"No problem with me," Reuben agreed. "Sorry about your boy, Coop."

Cooper opened his mouth to answer, say Rico Ellis had not been 'his boy', but something stopped him. It felt disloyal to deny that the dead teenager had meant something to him. Instead he silently nodded his thanks and led Lydia to the cruiser, held open the back door for her.

The drive to the Gardens was silent. Cooper led the two women to the front door, knocked. No response, but the TV noise suggested someone was home. Cooper's fist made harder contact with the door until it was finally opened. Rico's mother peered blearily out at the three officers.

"You remember me?" Cooper asked.

She peered at him for a moment with confused eyes. "Yeah, I 'member. You that cop Rico like. The one who take him to football."

"Yeah, that's me. Can we come in?"

She stood aside, let them into the shabby living room. Slumped down on the couch and looked up at them. "Pitbull ain't here."

"Ms. Ellis, it's Rico we wanna talk to you about. We got some bad news."

She looked directly at him but there was nothing close to life stirring in the tired brown. "My baby dead?"

Cooper was momentarily taken aback by her calm question. "Yes ma'am, he is."

"He shot?"

"Yes ma'am."

The woman nodded slowly, drew in a breath. "I heard 'em on the corner sayin' someone got capped." She looked around her, found a packet of cigarettes. Lit one. "I need to get goin' now. I gots things to do."

"Ms. Ellis, do you understand what he just told you?" Lydia asked quietly. "Your son has been killed."

"I know what you say. Pitbull dead." There wasn't so much as a flicker in the dull eyes. The woman was shaking but Cooper was certain it was from withdrawal rather than grief. Her thoughts were on where her next rock was coming from, as if her dead child was no more than a distraction. Did she even consider him her son? Or had he just been another source of crack?

"Can we call someone for you?" Tang asked. "Someone to come sit with you?"

A mirthless laugh escaped her lips. "Who the hell is there to call? Who gonna give a fuck, huh?"

"You don't have any relatives in the city?" Lydia asked.

"Don't got no one. Jus' me an' Rico left. He take care of me." Another shaky draw on the cigarette. "I gots to go get ma medication."

Lydia reached forward, put a restraining hand gently on the wasted forearm. "Ms. Ellis, my name's Detective Lydia Adams. I'm investigating Rico's murder. You mind if I ask you some questions?"

"I don't remember stuff so good," she whispered. "I need ma medication."

"I'll be real quick, I promise. Would you try for me?"

A slow nod was all the agreement they were going to get. Lydia got out her notebook, started asking gentle questions. When had she last seen her son; what was he wearing; did he say where he was going; who with?

Suddenly the small room was unbearably claustrophobic and Cooper couldn't stay a moment longer. He turned abruptly and walked outside, closing the screen door behind him. Made for the cruiser, sat himself on the edge of the hood as he tried to calm his racing mind.

Tang looked out after him but he shook his head and she turned back inside without questioning him.

"Yo, Officer Coop." The little kid from next-door had appeared unnoticed. "Is Pitbull dead?"

Cooper looked down at the boy. "Yeah," he said quietly. "He's dead."

Sad acceptance crossed the child's face, an air of resignation that was too mature for his young age.

"How'd you know?" Cooper asked.

"Saw that detective lady wid you. Detectives always come around when somebody dead."

"You know many people who've died?"

A quiet nod but the boy offered no figure. "Pit get it bad?" he asked.

"He was shot."

"Better'n gettin' stabbed."

"How'd you know?"

"Ma cousin got stabbed up last year. He hurt bad 'fore he died. Don't hurt so much if you shot, 'cos it's quick."

"You're too fricking young to know stuff like that, kid."

The boy shrugged. "Dat's life, G." He looked down at his tattered sneakers. Heaved a long sigh. "Wish I coulda told Pit bye."

"You can still say bye at the funeral," was the only thing of slightest comfort Cooper could think to say.

"Ain't the same, is it?" The child thrust out his chest, squared his jaw. "See you around, Officer Coop."

He wandered off down the street, eyes fixed on the sidewalk. Cooper saw his thin shoulders slump and just before he turned the corner, he thought he saw the kid raise a hand to swipe at his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

**PART 9**

Walking slowly into his kitchen, Cooper didn't even pause to take off his jacket before he snagged the bottle and a glass. Sat down at the kitchen table, poured a large measure of whisky, threw it down in one. Poured again, drank. Let his heavy head fall into his hands. Realised tears were streaming down his face. And for the first time in a long while, John Cooper allowed himself to cry.

When the tears finally stopped, an indefinite amount of time later, his whole body ached from the sobs that had racked his muscular figure. And he realised his cell was ringing.

"I'm sorry about Rico," Sherman's voice said after he eventually decided to answer it. "You okay?"

Cooper drew in a long breath. "I don't know," he said.

"Where are you?"

"Home."

"You want some company?"

"Nah."

"That's awkward."

"Why?"

"'Cos I'm standing on your driveway."

"Bullshit."

"Or I could just go home."

Cooper hesitated a moment. "You got beer?"

"You don't have beer?"

"I'll need more."

"I'll keep the bottle of bourbon to myself then. You gonna open the door or what?"

Cooper forced his legs to move; they felt heavy and leaden as he walked slowly to the front door. Ben's face was carefully expressionless, knowing from experience that Cooper could react badly to sympathy, but his eyes showed his empathy. Even after nearly two years in the job, he hadn't learnt to prevent those blue depths from showing his true emotions.

"Grab a glass," Cooper said, leading him into the kitchen. Slumped at the table again.

"I tried to call you after we got sent out to Barnsdall." Ben poured himself a healthy measure of amber liquid, sat down opposite Cooper.

"I know. Thanks for trying."

"The medical examiner said he wouldn't have suffered. He'd have bled out quick."

Cop sympathy, using facts, evidence, to try and provide some form of comfort.

"He woulda known they were gonna kill him," Cooper said dully. "Dying may not have hurt him but being scared would have."

"He might not have known anything about it." Ben knocked back his drink, poured again for them both. "You can't beat yourself up over this, Coop. You couldn't have pulled him out this time."

"I shoulda helped him the first time around. If I'd done something, he wouldn't have started banging and he'd be heading for a college scholarship instead of a box in the ground."

"You don't know that."

"I know I had the chance to save him."

"And what would you have done? Taken him home with you? Raised him?" Ben shook his head. "You're not a fool, Coop. You think Child Services woulda agreed to a single white guy takin' on a black projects kid? Even if you hadn't been dealing with the pills, even if your back hadn't been fucked up, you know it would never have worked out."

"But I coulda tried." Cooper dropped his head into his eyes. "Jesus, Ben, I could at least have tried.

"You did try. You did everything you could to push him into football and away from the corner. You spent more on food for him than you do for yourself. You were there for him. He knew that."

"It doesn't feel like enough." Cooper knew his voice sounded hollow, tried to fix it with another shot.

Ben was quiet, clearly trying to think of something to say. After a few moments, he seemed to give up. There was nothing to say.

"What's goin' on with you?" Cooper asked quietly. He felt like he would explode if he continued to talk about Rico; he had to change subject before it overwhelmed him.

"What'd you mean?"

"I heard you're gettin' pretty heavy on the streets."

"You really wanna talk about my conduct right now?"

Cooper flashed a smile that contained no humour. "Right now I don't feel like I can talk about anything else without trashing my entire kitchen. And I quite like my kitchen. So talk."

"It's no big deal."

"Things gettin' on top of you?"

"It's just not the same as if used to be."

"You mean when you rode with me?"

"Yeah, that, and Sammy in the early days. Everythin' feels different since that fuckin' crack pipe. Like Sammy doesn't want any connection with me anymore."

"Has he said that?"

"He doesn't need to."

"And that's makin' you lose control?"

Ben gave an awkward grin. "I've never been great at handling my temper, right?"

"Not your strongest skill, admittedly."

Cooper reached over and re-filled Ben's glass. Watched him closely, seeing he was about to crack and spit it out. He could never keep anything was bothering him under wraps; he wore his emotions too close to the surface. And he knew Cooper too well to try and bluff it out.

Sure enough, another mouthful of whisky and Sherman gave a heavy sigh, stared down into his glass.

"All this shit, I'm doin' it 'cos I don't feel safe out there anymore. I don't feel like Sammy's watching my back. The only way I feel safe if is it to act like this, make everyone scared of me. And I hate doin' it, man, I swear to God I do. But I'm out there on those streets everyday and it's like I'm alone." Ben shook his head, suddenly aggressive. "When I was ridin' with you, I always knew I was safe. I always knew you'd take care of me. There was only that one day in our entire partnership that I didn't feel you were there beside me. I don't have that with Sammy, not anymore."

"You talked to him about it?"

"Tried. He doesn't want to discuss it. Just wants to do the job and go home."

"I don't think Sammy would put you in danger, Ben. It might not feel like it but he'll still be looking out for you."

"You think?"

Cooper made eye contact with his former boot. "He's still a cop, no matter what personal feelings he might have towards you. And no cop's gonna stand by and see his partner get hurt. Or worse."

"Shame Pitbull's homeboys didn't think the same thing, huh?" Sherman said quietly, clearly uncomfortable with Cooper's confrontation of his demons.

"Don't call him Pitbull." For the first time, there was anger in Cooper's voice. Denial at what Rico's street name had signified.

"Sorry," Ben mumbled. "I wasn't trying to disrespect him."

Cooper shook his head slowly. "It's okay. Doesn't change anything. The kid's still dead." His voice cracked as he spoke the last word.

His head dropped, eyes squeezing tight shut as he fought to control himself. Leant forward over his knees. Ben moved before he had thought about his action, reaching out and throwing his arm round Cooper's solid neck, resting his palm on the back of his ex-partner's head. Stayed like that, perfectly still, as he felt Cooper shaking with the battle to keep a hold of himself.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Cooper pulled back, sat upright. Exhaled an unsteady breath.

"You should go home, it's late."

Ben shook his head. "Figured I'd stay a while longer."

"I don't need babysitting."

"Coop, you once told me a good cop will never leave his partner behind." Ben reached for the bottle, tipped another inch into his glass. "So I'm staying."

X X X

When his ringing phone shook Cooper from his drink-enabled slumber, he had no idea if it was morning or afternoon or what time he had eventually dragged his sorry ass to bed. He was stiff and sore; not even bourbon had managed to make him relax. And his head was pounding, an unusual occurrence for a big man who could hold his own body weight in liquor.

"Cooper," he mumbled once he'd managed to successfully swipe his finger across the screen.

"Hey, Coop, it's Lydia."

"How's it goin'?"

"Pretty good. We got one in custody for Rico Ellis's murder."

Cooper was taken aback by the news. Lydia and Reuben must have worked round the clock to have secured such a fast result.

"Anyone we know?" he asked

"Thiago Suarez. Sixteen years old, an MS13 pup."

"Avalons got beef with the Salvadorans?"

"Doesn't seem like it. Suarez and his homeboys were cruising the Gardens last night doing ABGs."

"Anybody Goes," Cooper muttered automatically. "You mean you don't think Rico was targeted?"

"We found a coupla witnesses and one of Suarez's homies confirmed what we'd already found out. It was a random shooting but they got worried if he was still alive, there'd be a full-out war. So they scooped him up and put him in their car trunk, even though it turns out he was killed instantly. They thought if they dumped the body in Barnsdall, they might get away with it."

"Has Suarez confessed?"

"Not yet but we got enough on him to charge him even if he stays quiet."

Cooper exhaled a long, unsteady breath. "Thanks, Lydia. Thanks for working so hard on this one."

Lydia had clearly heard the emotion in his voice. "Being a gang-banger didn't kill him, Coop," she said gently. "He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I know it doesn't make it better but at least you know he didn't die for the Avalons."

"Yeah," Cooper managed to say.

"Take care of yourself, John. I'm sorry for what happened."

Cooper ended the call, sat very still for several minutes, dragging deep breaths into his lungs as he fought a horrible mix of anger, sadness and despair that threatened to envelope him. Finally, he felt able to move, shake off that dark cloud.

Downstairs, Ben was still asleep on the couch. Cooper turned on the coffee machine, left it to brew, but didn't wake the younger man as he gathered his keys and quietly left the house.

X X X

The Gardens was quiet, no hint that any tragedy had taken place here. Most people would not even be aware of yet another death. Either that or they just wouldn't care.

Cooper glanced at Rico's house but walked on past without pausing. Tapped on the screen door of the next house.

"Hey, Officer Coop!" Happy surprise illuminated the face of the young boy when he saw who was standing on his front steps.

"Hey, kid."

"What you doin' around here?"

"I was thinking, you know my name but you never told me yours."

"You never asked."

"So you gonna tell me?"

A shrug. "Tay."

"That your street name or your real name?"

"Don't got a street name yet."

"But you want one, right?"

Another shrug, more careless this time. "Everybody around here bangs. Pitbull banged."

"And look what happened to him."

Tay tilted his little head to one side in consideration. "Yeah," he said quietly. "He was pretty young to die, huh?"

"Way too young. You wanna die like that?"

A sad shake of the head.

"Then maybe you'd better think about how bad you want a street name."

A pair of big brown eyes met Cooper's but the boy didn't reply. Didn't seem to have anything he could say in response.

"You know where Rico's baby lives?" Cooper asked.

"Pharell live wid his grandmomma. She got a house over on Paloma."

"Which house?"

"I d'know the number but I know what it look like."

"Get in the car, then."

"You goin' over there?"

"I got something I want to give the baby."

"From Pitbull?"

"Sorta. You comin' or what?"

Tay hesitated only a second before running around and jumping into the Challenger. "Cool car, Officer Coop."

He directed by pointing, guiding Cooper to a small wooden house just off South Avalon. Compared to others on the street, it looked clean and cared-for; garden manicured and cultivated plant baskets hanging from the front porch.

Leaving Tay in the car playing with the stereo, under strict instruction not to move, Cooper approached the screen door. It was opened before he could knock.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am," he said to the small, neat woman who stood before him, baby Pharell in her arms. "My name's John Cooper, I'm with the LAPD."

"My daughter ain't here."

"It's not about your daughter. I'm here about little Pharell."

Her eyes narrowed in instinctive suspicion. "What about Pharell?"

"I knew Rico; I was trying to help him out before he died. He told me he took care of Pharell's medical bills for the sickle cell."

The mistrust was replaced with the gleam of tears. "Rico always found the money. He tried hard for his son." She blinked hard. "Boy died for nothing. How many times I told him, being in that gang was gonna get him killed one day. Just didn't expect it to be so soon."

"The detectives have caught the kid who shot him," was the only thing Cooper could think of to say.

"Another baby losing his life." She settled Pharell more comfortably on her hip. The child's big eyes never left Cooper. "What can I do for you, Officer?"

"I just wanted to leave something with you, ma'am. For Pharell." Cooper held out a sealed envelope to her. "I couldn't help Rico in the end but I hope that at least I can do a little for his son."

She hesitated a moment before reaching out, gingerly taking it. Regarded Cooper with eyes that seemed to see into his very soul.

"Don't think me rude, but do you mind me asking why you care? Pharell an' Rico, they just ghetto kids. There's thousands just like 'em."

Cooper had half-turned away and he glanced back over his shoulder to answer. Little Pharell was still staring at him.

"Every kid deserves a chance," he said quietly.

Grandmother and grandson watched him all the way to the car. As he slid into the driver's seat, he saw her let Pharell's little fingers touch the envelope. And he saw her tears had been allowed to fall.

"You give 'em money?" Tay asked eagerly.

"Shut up, kid."

"How much?"

"None of your business."

"Why you givin' 'em money?"

"Kid, shut up already."

Tay wouldn't be put off. He was still childlike enough to be bursting with curiosity he couldn't yet contain. "Was it Pitbull's money?"

"No."

"You gonna go visit Pharell regular?"

Cooper kept watching the road. "Probably never gonna see him again."

"And me?"

"What about you?"

The kid shrugged, apparently out of questions now. "I d'know."

Cooper let the silence hang for a moment, then tugged his wallet free from his jeans. Dug around and drew out one of his LAPD cards. Handed it to the boy as they turned back into the Gardens.

Tay tilted his head quizzically to one side, regarded the card. His lips moved silently as he read the information. "So…this mean you gonna look out for me now like Pit used to?"

"Guess so."

"Cool." For a brief moment, a big smile lit Tay's face, revealing the child he was.

"You like football?"

"Yeah, I like it. There's a program after school that lets us play." Another smile, this time faltering. "Gonna be a receiver like Pit."

"I'd better start showing you how to catch, then.

"Fo' real?"

"Ball's in the trunk." Cooper pulled into the curb, killed the growling engine. "Go grab it."

Before long, a gaggle of other young kids had joined in the fun, playing a scrappy, wild game with the street as their gridiron. Cooper was elected to play quarterback for both teams, "cos he the only one got hands big 'nuff to throw the ball."

Cooper noticed the excited children had attracted the attention of the teenage gang-bangers who guarded their corner. He stood still, folded his arms across his chest, gave them the hard eye.

For a moment, they stared back. Then the biggest, the linebacker who had been with Rico over at the rec centre, waved a hand in greeting.

"Yo, Officer Coop! Can we play?"

**END**


End file.
